by Cheryl Bolen
She did not sign the letter.
Pretending to hold her in affection! How could a woman be so blind? He fairly worshipped the ground she trod.
He read the letter over once again. Surely he had missed something. Some clue that it was a joke. That she cared for a him just a little bit.
But he thought back to her silence last night when he had proclaimed his love for her. Had she loved him at all, her physical state alone last night would have given voice to some kind of declaration. The fact there was no declaration, he admitted dejectedly, proved that she did not love him as he loved her. As he had hoped she would love him.
Running through flames had been far less painful than Sally's sudden coolness.
Chapter 29
A pity that women had such a beastly hold over men. Until today, George never gave a thought to what clothing he wore. His man was quite competent in that regard. But the navy blue coat Peters selected would not do at all. It had suddenly become very important to George that he look dashing. His sisters had always said that brown was an excellent color on him. If he were to wear the brown, perhaps Sally would find him more attractive. "The brown, today, Peters," he informed his valet.
But if a woman was not in love with you, it was deuced hard to force her to feel otherwise. No matter how becoming one looked in brown.
All the while Peters shaved him and helped him into his clothes, George's every thought centered on Sally. How could he force her to love him? The memory of the seductive way she had looked at him last night and the way she had responded to his every touch sent his heart racing. Sally must be a most accomplished actress.
He wished he could dislike her. It would make matters so much easier, so much less painful. But, because of what she had given him last night, he loved her a hundred times more than he had loved her the day before. She was his universe.
Once he was dressed for the day, he wished to find Sally. Surely he could make her change her mind. Make her realize Fate had made them man and wife.
He thought back to all the foolish girls who had thrown themselves at him over the years. Each of them had hoped to win his heart. But hearts were not easily given. Take that blasted Betsy Johnson, for example. Since before the girl had come out of the schoolroom, she had done everything in her power to snare his heart. She was pretty. She possessed great wealth. She adored him—or the prospect of being Lady Sedgewick. But even before he'd learned of her moral deprivation, she did not appeal to him on any level.
In the same way, he did not appeal to Sally. The realization was a cannonball to his gut. Sadly, there was nothing he could do to make her feel otherwise.
Simply put, his wife loved him like a brother. He loved Felicity and Glee dearly, but the feelings he held for them were in no way as powerful or consuming—and certainly they were not sexual—as were the feelings he held for Sally. Sally, who thought of him as a brother.
He suddenly wished he had stayed in bed. In his chamber. How could he face her knowing he would never again be able to hold her in his arms or feel her soft lips beneath his?
He had to shove numbing thoughts of her from his mind. He must think of something, or someone, else. His son. There was something he had been wanting to give Sam.
It took nearly an hour before George located the silver spurs his grandfather had commissioned for him when he was a small boy. Now they would be his son's.
After presenting them to a jubilant Sam, he asked that Matilda be brought around for the children. They had not ridden her since the day of the fire.
It was while they were waiting for the pony in the central hallway that Sally came up. His stomach churned and he diverted his gaze from her.
"I cannot allow you to go outside today!" she said to him. "You know what Dr. Moore said!" Her eyes darted to the spurs. "My goodness, Sam, what do I see on your feet?" she asked in a honeyed voice.
"Papa give me," Sam said, pointing his little boots at her.
"They were Papa's when he was a little boy!" Georgette exclaimed.
Sally glanced at George. "I'm sure Sam will love them. I only hope he doesn't lose them. They're made of diamonds, are they not?"
George nodded. "So long as he enjoys them."
Adams opened the door as Ebenezer brought Matilda around. Sally glared at her husband. "I'll accompany them. I'm sure you have much to occupy you in your library, my lord."
So he had gone from being George—and even dearest—to being my lord. He watched dejectedly as his family left the house. From his library window he continued to watch them, a stubborn lump lodged in his throat. Sally was so happy when she was with the children. They, after all, had been her sole reason for marrying him.
* * *
From the morning-room window, Blanks watched his wife. She and that demmed Willingham were walking through the parkland. Did the man not have duties to perform? Surely Sedgewick didn't pay his steward to pay court to his sister. Did the snake Willingham not know Glee was a married woman?
The longer Blanks watched, the happier Glee looked. No less than five times—since he had been watching—she had lifted her laughing face to Willingham. And Blanks did not at all like the way she tucked her arm into Willingham's. It was far too intimate!
He could stand watching no longer. He stormed to the library and slammed the door behind him.
Sedgewick was sitting by the fire reading one of those blasted farming journals like the ones Blanks read when he was at his own Sutton Hall. Sedgewick looked over the top of the page at him. "Pray, what is the matter?"
Blanks crossed the room and looked out the window. That deuced wife of his was still smiling up into the demmed steward's face. "Does that bloody steward of yours have nothing better to do than dance attendance upon my wife?"
George put down his reading and came to stand beside Blanks.
"They say if one's mate is happy at home, there is no reason to ever stray. Can you honestly say you've made your wife happy?"
Blanks glared at him. "I love her, for God's sake. And she's well aware of those feelings!"
"I suggest you show her. My sister is desirous of bearing a son. Perhaps you can assist."
Good lord! Did Sedgewick think Glee might go elsewhere for the physical love he denied her? Not his Glee. She was too fine a woman. "But she loves me!"
George faced him. His face was so deuced somber the fellow looked tortured. "And that is all that matters. You'll never know how fortunate you are to possess your wife's love. Would that I possessed my wife's."
So he was tortured. As badly as he had been when Diana died. Only now he had come to love again, and this time that love was not returned. If only Blanks could say something that would ease his friend's pain. But all he could do was to settle a hand on George's shoulder. "I am a most fortunate man." He turned away from the window, George's words guiding him. "I go to my wife now."
* * *
When Blanks came upon his wife and Willingham, the steward stammered a moment, then excused himself. Not missing a step, Glee tucked her arm into her husband's. "I should love above everything to go to the folly with you, my darling."
His thoughts flooded back to that long-ago day when he and Glee had taken refuge from the rain under the folly's domed roof. Her foolish actions that day had forced him to marry her. Looking back on it, he realized that had been the luckiest day of his life.
He placed his hand over hers and continued past the burned stable and on to the lake. "My men are getting the lumber today and will start rebuilding the stable tomorrow," he said.
Memories of his many childhood trips here swamped him. Looking back, he came to realize he had always been part of George and Glee's family. His happiest times had occurred here at Hornsby, not at his own Sutton Hall.
"Do you know, Blanks," Glee said, eying the placid lake, "that is the same boat you were sitting in the first time I ever set eyes on you."
"Is that so? Amazing it's still afloat." They began to mount the knoll up to the folly. His
pulse pounded. His breath grew short.
"I'm ever so glad it's not raining today, dearest. Is it not a lovely day?"
He hoped she would not detect the tremble in his voice. "Indeed it is."
One minute they were in full sun, the next they were under the folly's shade. Now, he planned to take control. He took her hand and led her to the farthermost column and, with both his hands upon her shoulders, backed her into it, pressing himself against her as he lowered his head to hers.
She met his lips with a breathless passion. The intensity of the kiss deepened, and he was lost in a swirl of unleashed emotions. Encircling her in his arms, he crushed himself even closer to her. There was no way she could fail to feel the bulge beneath his breeches.
The next thing he knew, his little wife was rocking into him, slowly, languidly at first, but as their joint passion seared, their rhythm became faster, more urgent.
"Oh, please, Blanks, my love, come into me."
He could have stopped no easier than he could have summoned the night. He greedily lifted her skirts and pushed down her drawers, his precious Glee parting her legs for him at the same time she was attempting to release him from his blasted breeches.
When he was released, she caressed his swollen member greedily. If he did not stop her, he would come into her hand. That was what he had been wanting: to not come into her. He delayed making his decision, basking in her torturing touch.
Then he made his decision. He flicked her hand away. And moving even closer to her, he parted her in preparation for him.
His breathing hitching ever upward, he came into his beloved wife, into her buttery warmth, panting as one who has just escaped death. His little Glee trembled uncontrollably. He held her close for a long time. Until long after their passion was spent. He dropped soft kisses into her glorious coppery curls.
She looked up at him, the vestiges of their passion evident in the moist tendrils of her hair, in the smoky look in her fevered eyes. "This is where you need to be, my love," she murmured.
He cradled her face within his palms. "I had almost forgotten the joy being loved by you brings me," he said in a raspy voice. Moments later, dazed with wet kisses and expanding emotions, he finally allowed himself to slip from her, and he readjusted his breeches. His palm wiped the wet hair from her sweet brow as he dropped a kiss upon her pert little nose.
She slipped both her arms around him just above his waist and settled her cheek against his chest. "Oh, my dearest, I cannot wait until tonight!"
Chapter 30
Blanks stayed in the library with George when the runners came from London. The two gentlemen, who were much the same age as he and Blanks, sat on the other side of the desk from him. George told of the sinister occurrences at Hornsby since the new groom had come. "I wish for you to observe the man every hour of the day. Oblige me by wearing less recognizable clothing, though," George said.
Neither man objected.
"Between my brother"—George indicated Blanks—"and me, we should be able to outfit you."
Blanks left his position in front of the window and came to address the men. "It's vital to Lord Sedgewick that we learn who employs this Ebenezer."
One of the runners withdrew a small occurrence book from his breast pocket and took up a pen. "We shall need a thorough description of the man."
"He's no more than five and twenty years of age," George said. "He's taller than I am, but built rather like me."
"The man is my height, with my brother's muscular build," Blanks interjected.
George got to his feet. "I shall have him bring around my horse." He glanced at Blanks. "For you to ride, since that blasted doctor and my wife have contrived to keep me indoors."
Blanks nodded. "That way you fellows can see for yourselves what the groom looks like."
"If the stable's burned, where is the bloke stayin' at night?"
"Actually, he has insisted on staying in the burned-out stable," George said. "Claims he won't leave his animals. Don't know what the fellow plans to do in the event of rain."
The other runner glanced out the window. "Never ye mind about rain. We'll 'av 'im locked up tight by the time the next rain falls."
"If he is, indeed, the culprit," Blanks said.
George's brows dipped. "He's got to be."
* * *
Bonnets shading their faces, Sally and Glee spent the summer afternoon leisurely walking the parkland in front of Hornsby. Still refusing to go near the stable, Sally had balked at Glee's suggestion they walk to the lake.
"I understand the men have decided to build the new stable alongside the old one," Glee said. "There's enough of a shell in the old stable to house the horses and the groom until the new one's built."
"I cannot believe it's been almost two months since that fateful day," Sally said somberly. "So much has passed. I'm deliriously happy that George has recovered, but I'm ashamed to admit I miss those days in the sick room when I tended to him." Her voice lowered. "I loved being with him every waking moment and taking care of him. We became so close. We'll never recover what we then shared."
"Oh, pooh. It's as plain as the nose on my face that George has come to adore you. A pity he almost had to die to bring you to that state of closeness."
She knows. "I'm afraid that closeness will not ever come again."
Glee's lovely jade eyes narrowed. "Now, why ever would you say that? You've become his wife in every way."
Sally's face grew hot. "You don't understand. He pretended I was Diana."
Glee came to a stop in the middle of the broad lawn and peered at Sally. "Nonsense! I know my brother, and I know he's in love with you. He has all the signs of a man who passionately loves his wife. Trust me, Diana is long forgotten, rest her sweet soul."
Sally spoke in a choked voice. "He called me Diana. When we were making love."
"Oh dear," Glee said, her face scrunching into a frown. "I daresay it was old habit. Was it during the first time?"
"The first time?"
"The first time you made love, goose!"
Sally swallowed. "Well, yes, actually."
"There you have it! Old habit, for sure. Knowing my brother, I'd say he hadn't made love to another woman since Diana, and it was only natural that her name would come to his lips—that first time—but, believe me, he loves you."
"I wish I could believe you," Sally said in a weak voice.
Glee's mouth puckered. "I think I can now understand everything."
"Everything?"
"The reason my poor brother behaves in so tortured a manner. After he called you Diana, you put a stop to sharing a bed with him, did you not?"
Sally spun to face her. "How did you know?"
"Believe me," Glee said morosely, "I know the signs of a man terribly in love with his wife and deprived of her body. I've lived with such a man for more than two years."
They walked in silence toward the lane that ran in front of Hornsby.
"You didn't tell George, did you?" Glee said.
"Tell him what?"
"Tell him he called you Diana."
"It hurt too deeply, and I'm much too proud for my own good."
"Just as I thought! Instead of apologizing for calling you by the name of his former wife, he thinks you've barred him from your bed because you don't love him. What did you tell him?" Glee tossed a quizzing glance at her sister.
"I . . . I didn't tell him anything. I wrote to him."
Glee turned to her, her eyes dancing. "What did you write to him?"
"I told him . . . we couldn't do that again." She drew in a deep breath. "I told him I loved him, but only like a brother."
Glee groaned. "That explains my poor brother's dejected behavior. It really wasn't a bit charitable of you to treat him so callously, you know. He's had a rough go of it."
Sally's stomach dropped. She wished she could believe her denial did hurt him—not that she wished to wound the poor dear. "Had I thought I was hurting him, I most certainly would no
t have behaved so callously, but I assure you, the only thing George loves about me is my too-willing body."
"That's not true! I've known my brother a good deal longer than you, and I'm positive he's in love with you."
Sally heaved her shoulders. "Would that I could believe there's truth to what you're saying. Unfortunately, you're only trying to make me feel better because you're such a very good friend to me."
"Pooh! I also love my brother, and I want him to be happy."
Sally could not discuss her strained relationship with George any longer. "Speaking of being happy, I could tell at whist last night that a big change has come over Blanks. And over you."
Glee smiled. A huge smile. Like the cat that caught the canary. "Yes, we are very happy indeed. We did it again, you know."
A crisp gust of wind slapped at Sally's face. "It?"
"You know, it." Her smile gave no sign of lessening.
That which she had done with George. That glorious mating. No wonder Glee was so happy. Sally turned and took Glee's hand, covering it with her own. "I'm so very happy for you. And for Blanks."
"No one in the world is happier than I," Glee said smugly.
They came to the lane and turned back toward the manor house. Sally saw Ebenezer bring around George's horse. She was about to become angry until she saw that it was Blanks, not George, who mounted the beast.
"By the way," Glee said, "You did a most peculiar thing in the letter you sent me to tell me of George's accident."
Sally squinted against the sun to face her sister. "What?"
"You signed it Sally Spenser. I hope that does not mean you dislike being Lady Sedgewick."
"I suppose old habits are difficult to break. I'm happy to be Lady Sedgewick, though I've never in my life been more unhappy, if you understand what I mean."
