by Cheryl Bolen
Glee's little shoulders shrugged, and she spoke in a troubled whisper. "We shall never have another child, for he absents himself from my bed."
Other maidens might turn scarlet and avert their gazes when confronted with talk of what occurred between a married couple in the bedchamber, but not Sally. Her brows lowered. "I cannot believe Blanks has fallen out of love with you!"
"Oh, he hasn't," Glee said. "The problem is he loves me too dearly. Ever since Diana died on childbed, my darling Blanks is determined to spare me such a fate. And—because he loves me so dearly—he cannot be close to me and not . . . well, not wish to make love to me. So that is why he is never around."
Sally sprang to her feet and glided across the carpeted floor to Glee. "Oh, you poor dear. We must put a stop to his ridiculous behavior." She hugged Glee to her.
"I cannot think of what to do. I have spoken to him any number of times and assured him the women in my family are good breeders. Felicity's already delivered two perfect children, and Mama delivered three. I told him I am positive I shall never die until every red hair on my head has turned white."
"And what does he say?"
Glee's lashes fell. "He says one in four women die on childbed, and he'll not have me being one of them." A sob escaped her, and she turned to Sally with weepy eyes. "Oh, Sally, you cannot imagine how good it is to lie with a man you love so desperately."
Oh, but Sally could. Though a virgin, she was no blushing maiden. She could never behold George's muscled body and not long to have it stretched beside hers, to feel his solidness beneath her sweeping hands, to want to take him inside of her. Thinking on it now caused her heart to drum.
Shaking her head, Glee walked toward the door. "Our conversation has been far too draining. Come, let's go to the Pump Room. Perhaps I shall see my wayward husband there, and you can scold him."
* * *
Glee excessively disliked having to leave Sally on just her second day in Bath, but Felicity had summoned Glee to nearby Winston Hall. And since Felicity was the eldest of the siblings, neither Glee nor George had ever possessed the backbone to defy her. Not that there had ever been any need to, since Felicity's judgment was unerring.
So now Glee found herself in the Morelands' library facing Felicity and a solemn George, with both doors leading into the chamber firmly closed behind the three of them.
"Pray, what is all this about?" Glee asked.
Felicity's eyes flashed in anger, and her hands flew to her waist, elbows pointed outward. "It's about George. We've all been patient with him in his grief." She gazed at him, and her voice softened. "Don't forget that I know what it is to lose a beloved spouse. I never wanted to love another man again. I had known love with Michael."
"You cannot compare Michael Harrison to Diana!" George snapped. "No woman can ever take her place. No woman has ever been created who could be her equal."
"Be that as it may," Felicity said, "I've brought you here to tell you life goes on. Whether you ever remarry is irrelevant—though I do sincerely hope you will again know love. What is relevant, dearest brother of mine, is your children. And I'm persuaded your indifference toward them and your immature, selfish ways have to stop. We've said nothing to you up to this point because of your overwhelming grief, but I can no longer stand by and see your children so neglected."
"My children are not neglected! They have a very fine nurse who sees to all their needs."
"But they're already so handicapped, having no mother," Felicity said. "They need a father. And they need the influence of a woman of good birth. Though she's only four, it's time Georgette had a governess. She needs intercourse with a well bred lady. As does little Sam."
Now Glee stepped forward, her green eyes flashing. "Are you even aware of the fact your son cannot speak? He's such a sad little fellow, with virtually no parents to love him."
George was unaware of the fact. "At what age do most children speak?" he asked.
"Your own daughter had an extensive vocabulary when she was two," Glee said, "and my daughter is already speaking in sentences though she's a week younger than Sam."
"For Christ's sake, the lad's not yet two. What do you expect?" George said.
Felicity interceded. "He'll be two next week. I'll grant you, boys speak later than girls. My sons did not speak as early as my nieces. Still, I'm concerned for little Sam."
"I'll thank you not to pity my son. His nurse tells me he's quite intelligent."
"I don't for a moment doubt his intelligence," Glee said. "It's his well-being I doubt."
"He's much larger than Georgette was at the same age," George countered.
"We're not saying Sam is physically neglected," Felicity said. "It's his emotional battering that worries us."
"My son is not battered!" These demmed sisters of his had no right to tell him how to raise his children! There was nothing wrong with his son. The boy was just shy. That was all. The lad's mother was shy, too. God, but he missed her. What had George ever done in his life to cause such unbearable sorrow to be heaped upon him?
"You're wrong," Glee said. "He's been raised as an orphan."
"So, if I hire a governess, you expect that woman to become a mother to my children?"
"'It would be better than things are now," Felicity said. "Though best of all would be for you to remarry."
"That's out of the question," he said.
Felicity's voice gentled. "Believe me, I perfectly understand your feelings."
"No one's been in my shoes," George said bitterly.
An idea—a wonderful, brilliant idea—seized Glee. "George! Felicity! I have a solution to the dilemma."
"To what dilemma?" George asked.
"The dilemma of your children having no mother," Glee answered. "Sally could be their governess! She is already perfectly devoted to your children, and just yesterday she told me she wished to find a position as a teacher. This is infinitely better because she's so excessively fond of little Sam—and of Georgette, too."
"Sally Spenser?" George asked.
Glee put hands to hips. "Of course! What other Sally dotes on your children?"
He shrugged. "Never thought of the niece of an earl being a governess. Doesn't sound right."
"She's merely Lord Bankston's grandniece," Glee said.
Felicity walked up to George and settled a gentle arm around him. "Think on it, George. In the meantime, Glee can make inquiries to see if Miss Spenser would even consider being your children's governess."
Glee's thoughts were flitting through her brain at a miraculous rate of speed. Not only would Sally be perfect for the children, she would be good for George, too. Not in the romantic sense, of course. They weren't at all suited. In fact, they argued all the time. But Sally, with her honest tongue, was probably the only woman on earth who could handle George. If anyone could turn him around, it would be Sally Spenser.
"I should wish for both of you to dine with Blanks and me tonight. Miss Spenser is presently my houseguest, George, and you will have the opportunity to see for yourself if you think she will do."
Chapter 2
"You weren't gone very long," Sally said as Glee flew into the room without removing her hat.
"Though Winston Hall seems as if it's in the country, it's but three miles from Bath."
"Is everything all right there?" Sally asked.
Glee seemed distracted, then glanced up at Sally. "We—Felicity and I—are quite naturally concerned about George."
As was Sally. He was blazing a path of self-destruction. Just hearing his name mentioned in concerned sighs caused Sally's stomach to drop. Then it occurred to her that something might have happened to George, something even worse than losing his wife. Her heart began to thud in her chest. "Has anything happened to him?" Her voice croaked.
Glee spun around. "Oh, no."
Sally inhaled. Why had Glee still not removed her hat?
"It's really quite lovely out today," Glee said. "Shall we stroll over to Crescent Fie
lds?"
"Allow me to fetch my hat," Sally said.
A few minutes later the two ladies were strolling along Gay Street, hurried shoppers speeding past them.
"Felicity is especially concerned about George's children," Glee began. "She feels they need the influence of a genteel woman."
"I agree completely with her. Just yesterday it struck me how sad Georgette's face was when she asked you to plait her hair. It's not fair that those children don't have their own mother."
Glee pressed a gloved hand to her quivering mouth. "Oh, you shall break my heart."
"Every time I see George's children, it breaks my heart," Sally said solemnly.
"I told George how attached you are to his children." Glee slowed her pace and hesitated before she continued. "I also told him you were contemplating taking a position as a teacher."
Sally's heart sped up. "And what did he say?"
"He asked if I was speaking of Sally Spenser for he could not believe the niece of an earl would go into service. You see, I suggested you for the position with his children."
Sally whirled around to face Glee, her eyes flashing in anger. "You did what?"
"I said you would be perfect for his children."
Sally could never consent to live under George's roof! Especially since she was so thoroughly in love with him. Besides, George would never have her. He was well aware of the abrasiveness of her personality. He ought to be. He had been the brunt of her criticism all too many times. No, she thought, shaking her head, George would never consent to have such a sharp-tongued she-devil under his roof. He preferred gentle souls like Diana, who had never issued a disparaging remark in her entire life.
"The idea of being employed in your brother's household is absurd," Sally said. She stepped down off the pavement to cross the street but had to wait for a sedan chair carrying a frail, white-haired invalid to pass.
"Why is it so absurd?" Glee asked. "You've never hidden the fact of how attached you are to his children."
Sally hustled across the street. "I adore his children."
"You'd be good for them, too. Poor little Sam loves you above everyone, I do believe."
Tears began to prick at Sally's eyelids. She did love the precious little creature so! But living under his obstinate father's roof was out of the question. "You're making this very difficult for me."
"Then why won't you consider it? For Sam's sake?"
"Because Lord Sedgewick would never have me. You know how we seem to collide with one another." It seemed funny to Sally that Glee had never guessed Sally's affection for her brother in all these years. Sally had been enamored of him since she had first visited Hornsby Manor when she was ten. It was already obvious to Sally at that time that Glee worshipped her brother's best friend, Blanks. The corners of Sally's mouth turned down. Though both crushes had stood the test of time, only one of them had been reciprocated.
"That's why you'd be so very good for George. You're the only person who can unflinchingly tell him the error of his ways."
Sally gave a bitter laugh. "No man wishes to hear of his shortcomings."
"George will come around."
Come around? Then he had already nixed the idea of engaging her for his children? Though not surprised, Sally was hurt. She had her pride. She would never live under George's roof, even were he to fall on his knees and beg her.
Even if it meant losing the opportunity to swaddle Sam and Georgette in her love.
She had every assurance George would succeed in engaging a capable lady of genteel birth. The thought of it caused Sally's heart to sink. She hated the woman already. The woman would not only be able to spoil Georgette and Sam, she would also be able to see George every day. Sally swallowed hard. Would that it could have been she.
What if the lady George engaged was mean-spirited? What if she did not love Sam and Georgette as Sally did? The thought was crushing.
But Sally had her pride. It was all she had.
* * *
At dinner that night, all was amiable. Sally made it through every course without provoking George one single time. After dinner, when the men drank their port, the ladies retired to the drawing room and sat in a row on the silk brocade sofa, Sally in the middle.
"So, have you mentioned the post to Sally?" Felicity asked Glee.
Glee sighed. "I did. She's not interested."
Felicity turned to Sally, disappointment on her face. "But I know you're excessively fond of my brother's children."
Sally met her gaze. "That I cannot deny."
"She objects to their father, I believe," Glee interjected.
"I don't object to George, I mean, Lord Sedgewick, at all! I'll own that it appears I'm at daggers drawn with him more often than not, but I'm really quite fond of him." Her voice lowered. "In fact, I've grown concerned for his welfare, as I know you two have."
Felicity took Sally's hand in hers. "Won't you please consider taking the position in George's household?"
Sally averted her gaze from Felicity's clear blue eyes. "There's the fact your brother does not want me. In fact, he does not even like me, I'll wager."
"How could he not love you?" Glee said.
Sally giggled. "Believe me. To Lord Sedgewick I'm nothing more than an opinionated shrew."
"I do believe you could influence him as no one else," Felicity said.
"She's right," Glee chimed in.
The door creaked open and, her heart in her throat, Sally watched the gentlemen enter the drawing room. Though George was the shortest of the three men, he was still above average height. And there was no question in Sally's mind he was the most blatantly masculine of the three. There was a ruggedness about him that belied his privileged station in life. With his powerful chest and broad shoulders and bronzed skin, he looked as if he heaved heavy crates into the bow of a ship, day in and day out.
Yet no man as impeccably dressed as the Viscount Sedgewick could know such labors. Sally's eyes ran from his stockings up the length of him, lingering over his powerful legs, which showed to advantage in dove-colored superfine breeches. And she swallowed hard. Despite that he was nine and twenty, his waist was as small as it was before he married. Her gaze came to rest on his square face and his casually styled golden hair. His teeth were as white as his highly starched cravat. She noticed, too, the alluring cleft that pinched his strong chin. His was a face she never tired of.
* * *
"Glee said we could play whist tonight," George said, "and I'm claiming Miss Spenser for my partner."
Glee shot an impatient look at her brother. "That's hardly fair to claim the best female player here for your partner, since you're already so skilled at whist."
"Moreland's skill is equal to mine," George said as he cast an apologetic glance at Blanks. "Sorry, old boy, but whist has never been your game."
Glee came to her husband's side and hooked her arm through his. "But, you must admit, Blanks is far better than you at billiards."
"And at riding, and at any number of pursuits," George said.
"You do shoot better," Blanks conceded.
"You and Sally just go ahead and play with Felicity and Thomas," Glee said. She looked up at her husband. "Blanks and I shall set up the chessboard. I'm so very happy to have him home tonight, I shall hoard him all to myself."
George felt guilty for taking Blanks away from Glee so often. Both men had changed vastly since Diana had died. Before her death, he and Blanks were the two most happily domesticated men in the kingdom. Now George couldn't bear to be at any of his residences, for all of them evoked memories of the happiness he and Diana had shared.
George suspected poor Blanks accompanied him everywhere for two reasons. The first was to keep George from killing himself. The second was to deny himself Glee's torturing presence. For Blanks, when in his cups, had confessed that he had vowed not to bed Glee for fear of losing her on childbed as George had lost Diana.
As wretched as he felt for Glee, George didn't want Bl
anks to impregnate her, either. He feared losing one more woman he loved.
He pulled out the chair for Miss Spenser, then sat across from her. While they were waiting for Moreland, who was pouring himself a glass of brandy, George felt compelled to make conversation with Miss Spenser.
"How long do you plan to stay in Bath?"
"Only for a few weeks," Sally answered. "What about you? Do you not have any plans to return to Hornsby Manor?"
He stiffened. He couldn't go back there. It was where he and Diana had been happiest. Besides, he would go mad without the amusements of Bath. When he had Diana, he had had no need of amusements. "Not in the foreseeable future."
"A pity."
There she goes again! What was the opinionated Miss Spenser going to chastise him about this time? "Why do you say that?"
"It is my belief that you conducted yourself with great maturity during the time you resided at Hornsby and turned the estate back to prosperity."
Why was the chit always right? Damn her. The superior Miss Spenser. Since he had left Hornsby, the coffers had begun to dry up again. Of course, it did not help that he had squandered a considerable amount of money on his recent hedonistic pursuits.
"Also, I think country life would be more agreeable for your children."
She did have opinions on everything! "A pity your life is so dull you have time to contemplate my actions so thoroughly."
A great sadness came over Miss Spenser's face. Really, he had overstepped the bounds of propriety. "Forgive me, Miss Spenser, 'twas a most unkind thing for me to say. I should be flattered that you care at all about my children and me." A moment later, he added, "my children need all the care they can get, or so my sisters tell me."
"Forgive me, my lord, for being quite unable to hold my tongue, but your children—especially your son—could use more caring from you. I only tell you this because I am so devoted to them. They both are extraordinary children."
