My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy)

by Linda Rae Sande

  Why had she grown so angry? He was sure she was returning the kiss, sure he heard her soft moans of appreciation.

  He briefly wondered if he would ever see her again.

  Should she tell her father what he had done, Alistair was sure he would be dismissed. Tamping down the bit of panic he felt at the possibility of losing his position, he had to remind himself that all would not be lost – his mother missed him. The thought of having to move in with her should he need a place to stay had him feeling panicked again, though.

  Sighing, Alistair stood up and slowly made his way to the back gate and the stables beyond.

  Chapter 25

  A Countess Arrives at the Inn

  Charity Wellingham angled her head away from the window of the coach, hoping that no one inside the Spread Eagle could see her from their vantage point. She still hadn’t decided on the best approach with regard to Gabriel’s supposed son and the boy’s mother. Halfway to Stretton, she’d thought to use intimidation until she had the chit in tears and willing to disavow any relationship with the earl. A mile away, she had grown soft and thought merely to introduce herself and allow the chit to make a fool of herself before disavowing any relationship with the earl. Now, having seen how different the Spread Eagle appeared since her last visit a few years ago, Charity wondered if she shouldn’t just act like any other visitor to the inn and use the visit as an opportunity to learn more about the woman who had her son so enamored.

  The place was obviously well-kept. A fresh coat of whitewash had been applied to the stucco exterior. No windows were broken. The yard was covered in pea gravel, and strategically placed planks assured that travelers arrived at the front door free of muddy boots. Even now, as her coach was coming to a rest in front of the building, a stableboy and a groom were hurrying to see to the horses, asking the driver if he required a new team or if the beasts merely needed food and water.

  Her own footman opened the coach door. He had already placed a set of steps outside the door and was holding out a hand to assist her from the equipage when Charity moved to get up.

  She nodded and silently wished the driver had parked the coach so her door was positioned away from the front of the inn. Despite the relatively short trip – they hadn’t stopped from the time they left Trenton Manor – she felt stiff and thought a moment to shake out her skirts and stretch her legs would be required. Better she do that away from prying eyes. A quick glance at the inn, though, and the fact that there were no other coaches in the parking area made her realize that there probably wasn’t anyone watching her from inside the inn.

  “I’ll be spending the night here,” Charity said to the footman, knowing her simple words would cause an interesting series of events. Instead of the horses being fed and watered where they stood, they would instead pull the coach to a space on the side or behind the inn before being unhitched and moved to the stables. The driver and tiger would end up in rooms above the stables. And she and her maid would simply enter the inn, ask about rooms and be escorted to their accommodations for the night. A supper might be had in the public room, although Charity wondered if she would be offered a private parlor in which to eat her meal. Eating in the public area might make for some interesting reconnaissance, she considered, but the thought of being stared at by other travelers had her hoping for the private parlor.

  Fuller stepped down from the coach, allowing the footman to assist her as she did so. “Would milady like me to go in and make arrangements?” she wondered quietly.

  Smiling, Charity shook her head. “Oh, no, Fuller,” she replied with a hint of mischief. “I shall see to the arrangements,” she said simply. And with that comment completed, she headed for the front door of the Spread Eagle.

  “So, whose coach is it?” John Bristow wondered as the inn’s barkeep dared a peek around the calico curtains that hung on every window in the public room.

  “It’s marked, but I can’t make out the coat of arms,” Thomas Fuller answered, his attention still on the equipage that had just pulled into the yard out front.

  “Horses look good,” Mr. Bristow commented, standing back a bit from the window glass. In the event someone bothered to look toward the inn, he wouldn’t be seen from where he stood.

  “Matched set, no doubt,” Thomas agreed. He watched as a footman put down a set of stairs next to the coach door. “Now, for the bet. I say it’s a woman,” he stated, thinking most men didn’t wait for a footman to open the carriage doors – they usually just jumped out of the coaches and made their way to the taproom as quickly as possible.

  “It’s one of those lords,” Mr. Bristow insisted, thinking the higher ranking aristocrats always took their time disembarking from their equipage.

  Thomas backed away from the window a bit, his breath held until he saw the unmistakable boot of a female step out of the black traveling coach. “I win,” he said as he pounded his fist into his other hand. He kept his eye on the coach, though, wondering if it contained a male passenger. When another female boot stepped from the coach, he held his hands in the air as if he had won a bare knuckle fight. “I win,” he announced again. His arms quickly dropped, though, when he took a good look at the second woman to depart the coach. “Mum?” he said under his breath.

  John Bristow regarded his barkeep for a moment before turning his attention back to the women who were surreptitiously shaking out their skirts and giving the inn surreptitious glances. “Which one?” he asked in surprise.

  “The maid, of course,” Thomas replied as he stared out the window.

  “So, who’s the older woman?”

  “Indeed, who is our visitor?” a feminine voice said from behind them.

  Both men started and turned in unison, surprised at finding Sarah standing and staring out the window at their apparent visitors.

  Thomas held a hand against his chest. “Miss Cumberbatch, you nearly scared me to death,” he claimed as he gave her a slight bow. Sarah merely nodded in his direction, her gaze still on the elegantly dressed woman and her maid as she held Gabe atop one hip.

  “How long have you been standing there?” he added, turning his attention back to the window.

  “Long enough to know the maid is your mother, which means you should know who our guest is,” she answered with an arched eyebrow.

  “Mama,” Gabe said before putting most of one fist back into his mouth. Having just woken from his nap, he was freshly diapered and wore a clean gown. Knitted socks covered his feet.

  “My mum is maid to Lady Trenton,” Thomas said proudly. “At least, she was when I last saw her,” he added, suddenly a bit uncertain.

  Lady Trenton! Gabriel’s mother? Sarah wondered. Was it a coincidence that she was here only a day after Gabriel had left? Or had the earl said something to her? Had he told her about Sarah and her son?

  Tamping down the panic she suddenly felt, Sarah turned and headed for the office. “We should take our places,” she said, casting a glance back to the men. She paused as Thomas and Mr. Bristow moved to their stations at the tap and in the public room. When she was sure everything was acceptable, Sarah turned and hurried through the dark hall behind the counter.

  Once in inn’s office, she placed Gabe in his pen and gave him a peck on his cheek before holding a finger to her lips.

  “Mama,” he said in response, his face breaking into a grin.

  “Yes, I am, but keep that to yourself,” she whispered. Sarah made her way to the front door and opened it for their new guests. “Welcome to the Spread Eagle,” she announced proudly. She curtsied and waved an arm to indicate the approaching women should make their way into the public room. “Do make yourself at home,” she added, trying to keep from staring at the stately woman who breezed into the inn as if she owned it.

  The woman who was Gabriel’s mother.

  And Gabe’s grandmother.

  Damnation!

  Chapter 26

  All is Forgiven

  Alistair entered the stables, deep in thought
over what had just happened in the garden. How could he have been so wrong about Lady Julia? He was sure she would like being kissed, sure she would have appreciated his effort to make her forget her anger at him for his comment. You have never been kissed. Well, from the brief moment he had had his lips on hers, it was apparent his kiss was her first kiss. She should be relieved to have it over with. She should be grateful he had bestowed such a kiss on her, a kiss filled with passion and loving. She should be happy to have her first kiss be with the son of an earl …

  Reeling suddenly, Alistair stilled himself. He was the son of an earl, but she didn’t know that. She thought he was a groom. A mere servant who worked in her father’s stables. No wonder she had reacted so strongly. No wonder …

  Loving? From where had that thought come? He didn’t feel … shaking his head as if to clear it, Alistair gave a quick glance in the direction of Thunderbolt. Reminded by the smell of manure and hay that he had work to do – he had promised Grimes he would see to his chores once his dance lesson was over – he grabbed a rake from its hook on the wall and got to work mucking the stables. I have better things to do than give Lady Julia even one more minute of consideration, he thought as he added grain to Thunderbolt’s bucket. Even if she is a petite, beautiful, headstrong, perfectly frustrating, frequently stubborn, very spoiled and a very delectable lady whom I would welcome in my bed with open arms … Alistair cursed under his breath.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  Lady Julia was the daughter of an earl! A rather powerful earl in Parliament, if his father’s comments about the man could be believed.

  He felt the hardening bulge behind the placket of his breeches and cursed again. This cannot be, he thought, determined to get his mind – and his cock – under control. He had no business even thinking about Lady Julia in any other capacity but as the daughter of his employer. There could be nothing between them. There shouldn’t even be dancing lessons let alone an appointment with her brother’s tailor to make his suit of clothes for the ball. And diction lessons? He had no need of diction lessons! Bowing? He could bow with the best of them, although he had to admit that damned blonde earl, Gabriel Wellingham, could bow better than he did.

  Of course, he could, though. The Earl of Trenton was closer to the floor – he didn’t have to be concerned with pitching forward and falling onto his perfectly coiffed blond curls. Although the damned things would probably cushion the blow if he did.

  No, he would find Lady Julia in the morning – or at least as early as he could if she was one to sleep until noon – and let her know he could no longer learn to be a gentleman under her tutelage. He felt a stab of disappointment just then, disappointment that he would no longer be able to look forward to the time they spent together in the ballroom, no longer look forward to spending time with her … Damn! What was it about Lady Julia? He didn’t feel affection for her. He couldn’t feel affection for her. He wouldn’t feel …

  I do.

  Alistair lifted his head to find Thunderbolt staring at him, the horse seeming to shake his head from side to side. “Oh, you, too?” he said aloud, startled by the sound of his voice in the quiet stables. Thunderbolt gave him a “neigh” in response and shook his head again, finally moving toward Alistair.

  “I’m doomed,” Alistair said in a hoarse whisper. Thunderbolt nodded his head and helped himself to the grain Alistair still held in his hand. “And you’re no help,” Alistair added with a hint of derision. Having removed most of the grain Alistair held in his hand, Thunderbolt backed off and returned to standing in the spot he favored for sleeping.

  Sighing, Alistair closed up the stall and threw the bolt on the door. Before he could turn around, he heard a scuffing sound, not one made by a horse. Despite the dimming light from the setting sun and the long shadows it cast in the stalls, Alistair knew he wasn’t alone.

  She was here.

  The scent of lilies wafted into his nostrils, temporarily freezing his brain and his ability to speak. He brushed his hands together and then on his breeches, attempting to free them of the bits of grain that clung to his skin. Turning around slowly, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he moved toward the main door, his step slow and deliberate.

  Lady Julia stood next to the mounting block, her hands clutched together in front of her. She was regarding him with an expression that could have been fright or could have been anger – Alistair couldn’t make it out in the dim light. Although he knew she saw him – she was watching him as he approached her – she didn’t move from where she stood.

  “My lady?” he finally spoke, stopping a couple of feet in front of her.

  Julia lifted her skirts a bit and stepped onto the mounting block, making her nearly as tall as Alistair and another foot closer. “I am not a quitter,” she said suddenly, the words a complete surprise to Alistair.

  “I did not accuse yo …” Alistair’s words were cut off as Lady Julia leaned over and captured his lips with hers, captured his head with her hands as she splayed her fingers through his hair.

  Alistair was forced to move closer, close enough that he felt her bosom press against his chest and her thighs brush against his. But he was far more aware of her lips as they pressed against his, imitating exactly what his lips had done to hers only a few hours earlier.

  It took a moment before he could return the kiss, a moment he reveled in being kissed, reveled in how her fingers felt as they raked through his hair and down to his neck, for this was the first time a woman had initiated a kiss with him, the first time a woman stood so tall he wasn’t forced to lean down to meet her lips, the first time he actually cared for the woman with whom he was sharing such an intimate, passionate kiss.

  When her lips seemed to part, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in between, just enough so it made contact with her teeth. Although he felt a slight start in her body, she didn’t pull away. Instead her tongue touched his, invited his to delve deeper into her mouth, to touch her and taste her while her tongue seemed to do the same in him. He felt more than heard her quiet moans, he hoped of appreciation or perhaps pleasure.

  Moving his hands to her back, he pulled her harder to the front of his body, savoring the feel of her soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his body. God, if only they could be on his bed, with its soft mattress and softer pillows, where he could remove her gown and her chemise and her corset so his lips and his tongue could taste every inch of her body. He would use his teeth to untie her garters and his nose to lower her stockings as he used his lips to kiss the tender flesh on the inside of her knees and down her calves to the tips of her toes. And when she begged him to take her, he would lower himself between her spread legs and use his tongue to tease her swollen womanhood to full ripeness. His lips would send her over the edge, supping and suckling her until she would cry out his name and beg for him to come inside her fully. Even now, he knew he could – his manhood was so engorged, he feared he might experience an orgasm before he even had her on a bed. He had to stop this, had to pull away or Lady Julia would be ruined.

  Even before he could end the kiss, though, Julia’s lips spoke something against his.

  Alistair pulled his lips away, keeping his forehead pressed against the top of hers. “What is it?” he managed to get out in a voice that managed to sound more steady than he felt.

  “Was I ..?” She paused a moment, as if she had to catch her breath. “Doing it right?” she wondered, her eyes finally opening to meet his.

  Straightening so that their heads no longer touched, Alistair swallowed. “I believe so,” he answered with a nod. “Although I cannot imagine there would be a wrong way,” he added with a raised eyebrow.

  Julia’s mouth opened as she made a rather unladylike sound of disbelief. “I am related to a man who is the living example of the wrong way,” she argued, her manner suggesting she thought she might have somehow inherited the inability to kiss correctly.

  Alistair had to think a moment to re
member of whom she spoke. Gabriel Wellingham. He of the horrible kiss he had apparently bestowed on Lady Elizabeth during a ball. “I assure you, Lady Julia, you will never be found guilty of bestowing a horrible kiss on anyone,” Alistair said with as much reassurance as possible. After a thoughtful pause, he asked, “And what of my kiss. Did you find it … agreeable?”

  Thinking it was a good thing Alistair held onto her during their kisses – she was sure she might have taken a tumble off the mounting block had he not – Julia now found herself wishing he would let go.

  Did she find his kiss agreeable? Well, wasn’t it a whole series of kisses? And, if so, the first was a bit … unsure, but the next one was quite satisfying, and the one after that was pure heaven, and then she had thought to end the kiss because, well, she was suddenly quite aware that something was going on in Mr. Comber’s nether regions. As a young, unmarried lady, she knew she shouldn’t know anything about such things as a man’s nether regions, but she did have a library card for the lending library, and she had managed to borrow a book that mentioned something about one of the characters experiencing arousal when he was kissing a woman.

  Julia couldn’t help but hope that her kissing had caused Mr. Comber’s arousal.

  “That bad, huh?” Alistair muttered when Julia didn’t answer him right away.

  Julia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, it wasn’t bad. At all. I just … I thought perhaps there was more than one kiss, but you inferred it was just a single kiss, and I was trying to decide which parts were my favorites and which parts were just … so-so.”

  Alistair stared at Julia for a few seconds, trying to follow her thought process. “So … if, say, there were four kisses …”

  “The first was a bit unsure …

  “Since I really wasn’t expecting you to … really allow me to kiss you, or if you were going to haul off and slap me …”