by Diana Quincy
The upper panorama, also a naval scene, was a great deal smaller than its counterpart on the lower level, but the wondrous feeling of being inside the scene remained. Patience immediately became the captain of the ship, assigning Prudie to be her first mate.
“Shall we sit?” Sunny gestured to a few bergère chairs scattered about the platform. “We have the place to ourselves for a full hour. We may as well give the girls more time to commandeer the ship.”
They took their seats, which afforded them an excellent view of both the panorama and the children at play.
“May I ask you a question?” Finch said.
“Certainly.”
“What would you have done if there had been consequences as a result of our indiscretion at the ball?”
Sunny wondered why she asked. He could not read her expression due to the poor lighting on the platform. “I would have acted honorably.”
She tilted her head. “Are you suggesting…?”
“Naturally. We would have wed.”
“You’re a duke. You could not wed a mere governess.”
“You, Finch, are not a mere anything. You’re as formidable a woman as I’ve ever met, and you would make a redoubtable duchess.”
“But I’m a governess,” she repeated.
“You were born a lady. I do not doubt you’d perform admirably in the role of duchess.”
“What if I had refused to marry you?”
“I would have used every means at my disposal to convince you.” He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. He enjoyed teasing her and relished the new easiness of their interactions. “As you know, I can be quite convincing when I put my mind to it.”
She looked heavenward. “And well I know it.”
He paused, surprised at himself for wanting to be completely honest with her. “I will never father a child outside of wedlock. My father did not have any qualms about spreading his seed.” Discussing his father made his chest feel tight. “I despised the man, you see, and want to be nothing like him.”
“That is why you stay away from the servants,” she observed quietly, “because he didn’t.”
“Yes, while my father was the model of propriety in public, he had no qualms about doing as he pleased in private and that included requiring certain indecent services of the household staff.”
“How terrible.”
He’d never spoken to anyone of this, yet he found comfort in confiding in Isabel. “You have no idea. I saw him once—with a new housemaid. I was hidden in one of the public rooms, watching her dust. Jenny was young and quite comely. To tell you the truth, I was besotted with her. I was eighteen years old and still completely innocent. Up until that day, I’d been determined to emulate my father’s moral rectitude and upstanding behavior. I wanted nothing more than to uphold the sterling Sunderford reputation as I thought he had.”
“What happened?”
“My father came in and shut the door behind him. He did not know I was there. He forced her.” Sunny squeezed his eyes closed, a sickening sensation sliding through his gut as the scene replayed in his mind. “Jenny begged him to stop. She told him she was betrothed to a young man in the village. But that didn’t stop him. I remember him saying something about preparing her for the marriage bed.”
He could feel Isabel’s shock. “I do beg your pardon,” he said. “Such things should never be spoken of in front of a lady. I don’t know what came over me.”
“We are friends, are we not?” She leaned forward in her seat to lay a hand on his arm. “You unburdened yourself to me because that is what friends do. They talk to each other.”
“Do they?” He put his hand over hers, feeling a warm comfort in doing so. “I’ve never shared that story with anyone before.”
“I am sorry you had to witness such a terrible thing.”
“After that I despised my father. Before that, I think I just feared him. I certainly never loved him.” He held her hand, feeling the small, fragile bones in her fingers. “I’m no saint. I don’t deserve your empathy.”
“Why don’t we leave that for me to decide?”
He decided to disavow her of any misconceived notions she might have about him. “Sinful Sunny emerged shortly thereafter. My true nature revealed itself. I’d held myself up to the highest standards before Jenny, but it was a false ideal because my father was never the man he pretended to be. I became like him, don’t you see? I was determined to be even worse than him. I did it to embarrass him.”
“Maybe you also did it to punish your father for his transgression against an innocent girl who had no way of fighting back.”
He gave her a grim smile. “I never thought you would be so determined to cast me in the role of hero.”
“I do not know if you are a hero exactly, but you do not bed unwilling women. You draw the line at servants. You are not like him.”
“I did not draw the line with you.”
“I was not unwilling. And I am not without resources. I have powerful friends from my old life who would come to my aid if needed.”
Did she now? Interesting. “I hated myself after you fled to Abel’s. I thought I was just like my father. He always said blood would tell.”
“You are not your father. And I ran not because you forced me to do something I didn’t want. I ran because I liked it rather too much.”
He smiled at that, cheered beyond words. “You find me that irresistible, do you?”
She shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”
“As a gentleman, I am at your service, whatever you require.”
“I require a friend. And that you stop talking nonsense.” She stood abruptly and called out to Patience and Prudie. “Come now, girls, it is time to go.”
* * *
—
“She’s got her eye on you,” Vale said to Sunny.
Sunny kept his attention on the cards in his hand. “Who?”
Cosmo threw down a card. “Our hostess.”
From behind his spectacles, Will Naismith discreetly tracked Agatha Dawkins’s movements. “She’s on the approach.”
The four men were playing cards in the lady’s drawing room while about fifty or so other guests mingled in the adjoining hall. It was a gathering that was considered intimate by ton standards.
“I remember the year she came out,” Cosmo said. “There were wagers about her purity.”
“She was an accomplished flirt.” Naismith tapped his fingers on the table. “But I understand she was faithful to her late husband.”
Vale dealt Naismith another card. “Now that she’s a widow, the word is that she is looking for a lover.”
Another guest waylaid Agatha and drew her away before she reached their table. Cosmo gave an exaggerated wince. “Ouch. His Grace loses out on an excellent opportunity.”
Sunny made a noncommittal grunt as he arranged the cards in his hand. What the gentlemen at the table did not know was that he already had a scheduled assignation with the lovely widow in thirty minutes’ time. She’d arranged the encounter, and he saw no reason not to consent. He anticipated a quick screw to take the edge off before he departed for home.
God knows he needed the relief. He’d been walking around half-hard for most of the past fortnight. Being around Finch had that effect on him. Their relationship was deuced odd. Although he still wanted to bed her—quite desperately in fact—he found himself seeking her company just for the sake of being around her, despite knowing that he’d never enjoy an encore of their coupling.
His original plan had been to avoid the nanny at all costs. After all, if there was no hope of another confoundingly good swiving in that direction, what was the point of spending time with her?
Yet, he was drawn to the schoolroom, the nursery, the girls, and their nanny. He enjoyed her laugh and the easy, lovi
ng relationship she had with the children. He particularly liked it when she raised an eyebrow in his direction, challenging something he’d said.
“What about it?” Vale said. “Are you interested in the lovely Mrs. Dawkins?”
Sunny frowned as he studied his cards. “Since when are you three so interested in whom I bed?”
“I am not even remotely interested,” Naismith informed him, “but these two have wagered on it.”
That prompted Sunny to finally look up. “You have? Why? Which one of you would take the bet against me swiving a beautiful, willing woman?”
“I took the wager against,” Cosmo said.
Sunny stared at him. “Why ever would you do that?”
“Because I think you’ve lost interest in that sort of thing.”
Vale swallowed the last of his drink. “It has not gone unnoticed that you have stopped hosting lascivious entertainments at Sunderford House.”
“Just because I no longer wish to host orgies does not mean my prick is limp.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” Vale shot a meaningful look at Cosmo. “The parties might be over, but Sunderford is never going to stop wetting his prick.”
Sunny threw down a card. “Precisely.”
“Then why not take Agatha up on what she’s so clearly offering,” Vale urged.
“Yes, why not?” Naismith carefully laid down two cards. “It would be perfectly acceptable for an unwed man to have such an arrangement with a widow. Discreetly, of course.”
Cosmo eyed his brother in marriage. “It sounds as if you speak from experience.”
“Does it?” Naismith spoke in a mild tone. “I cannot say. I do not recall anything about my life before I wed your sister.”
“So you do plan to bed her?” Vale pressed Sunny before winking in Cosmo’s direction. “Be prepared to settle this wager posthaste. I’ve my eye on an emerald trinket that would go beautifully with my wife’s eyes.”
Vale was only halfway in jest. He’d inherited a mountain of debt along with his title and was slowly settling those accounts. Even though his wife, Emilia, was the wealthiest heiress in London, Vale refused to use her funds. The stubborn man had also declined Sunny’s offer of a loan.
“If I bed Agatha or any other widow,” Sunny said, “I certainly wouldn’t tell either of you.”
Cosmo threw down his cards. “I’m out.”
Sunny followed suit. “I’m out as well.” He came to his feet. “Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I am needed elsewhere.”
* * *
—
Agatha was waiting for Sunny when he arrived in the library at the appointed time.
“Your Grace, I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time.”
“You do me a great honor,” he said gallantly. She was an attractive woman with thick, beautiful sable hair and even features, but it was Agatha’s lush body that drew the attention of most men, including Sunny. She had a pert bosom, tiny waist, and large round arse that more than filled a man’s palms.
He had noticed her before; it was difficult to miss the way she swung those hips when she walked—as if in insinuation and invitation all at once. But she’d been wed, and he did not dally with married women. Now she was a widow, out of her year of mourning, who seemed eager for this encounter.
This sort of arrangement—a discreet liaison with an attractive woman or two of his class—should suit Sunny admirably now that he seemed to have lost his taste for actresses, dancers, tarts, and opera singers.
Agatha approached and gave him her back. “Would you mind?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He obliged her, unfastening the tiny cloth-covered buttons. He was adept at removing women’s clothes so the task took little time. He realized almost immediately that she wore nothing under her gown—no stays, no chemise, nothing—revealing a pale bare back with a spattering of freckles.
Tossing a knowing smile over her shoulder, she worked the loosened gown off her shoulders and over her waist until it dropped to the floor. He realized immediately why she’d kept her back to him. It was in order to showcase an exquisitely narrow waist that curved into the bodacious bottom for which the lady was known. Objectively speaking, her arse was rather magnificent; the plump smooth round globes were made for coddling a man’s prick.
His body’s indifference surprised him. He felt oddly removed from the situation, as if he were an observer rather than a participant.
A furrow appeared between Agatha’s brows. “Your Grace?”
He realized he should touch her, especially now that she’d literally laid herself bare before him, yet an urge to quit the room almost overwhelmed him. But there was no graceful way to terminate this liaison without humiliating the lady.
Taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. He brushed a chaste kiss across her lips. When she hungrily leaned in and opened her mouth, he pulled back.
“I do beg your pardon,” he said gently. “You are a beautiful woman and you honor me by inviting me here.”
“You don’t…” She regarded him quizzically. “I do not understand. I’ve seen you watching me.”
“You are quite right.” He bent to retrieve her dress and helped her step into it. “I have lusted after you. I have often imagined what it might be like to enjoy the privilege of bedding you.”
She gave him her back so that he could do up her dress. “And yet you decline?”
“I am sorry. My circumstances have changed.” He was extraordinarily confused. He should be eager to bed this woman, and yet he could not even fathom it. “The issue is with me. I cannot explain it…”
“I can,” she said. “You have fallen in love.”
He let out a skeptical half-laugh. “I assure you that is not it.”
“Everyone is talking about it.”
“About what?”
“The fact that you no longer host scandalous routs at Sunderford House. And you have been seen on more than one occasion in the company of your governess—”
His heart lost its beat. “Are you suggesting that I am besotted with my governess, of all people?” He tried to make his tone as incredulous as possible, as if the very suggestion was ridiculous. He would not subject Finch’s reputation to such ruinous gossip.
“Your governess?” She laughed. “No, everyone knows you don’t bed the servants. Besides, she is rather stern-looking.”
“Then what the devil are you talking about?”
“It’s clear you’re besotted with your wards. All of the ton is talking about how Sinful Sunny has been reformed by two little girls.”
Agatha had given him a graceful way to exit this awkward scene, and he happily seized it. “I confess to harboring affection for the children.” As he said the words aloud, he realized there was truth in them. “I do not know if I am up to the task, but they make me want to be a better man.”
Agatha smiled. “I think this evening demonstrates that you already are.”
Chapter 20
The following morning, Sunny stepped out of his playroom to find the twins waiting for him.
“Why do you keep locking that door?” Patience asked.
“You never used to lock it,” Prudie observed. “And what are the funny noises coming from there? The banging and the sawing?”
“You know what they say about curiosity killing the cat, don’t you?” He turned the key in the lock.
“Who said that?” Prudie asked.
“Shakespeare, I believe.” He was becoming accustomed to their incessant questions and sometimes even took pleasure in the back-and-forth barrage.
“How did curiosity kill the cat?” Prudie wanted to know.
“That, I do not know,” he admitted. He paused to stare down at them. “Is there something else I can assist you with?”
“Can we play in your tub again?” Prudie asked.
“We want to go swimming,” Patience added.
“No, you may not. I have another idea.” One he’d thought of while the twins were away—and after the last time the brats had invaded his bath. He’d just waited for the perfect day for it. “Pray go and tell Miss Finch I shall expect all of you to be ready to depart in precisely one hour.”
“Are you going with us?” Prudie asked.
“I shall meet you there.” Everything should be in readiness for them, but he intended to ride out ahead to make sure of it.
* * *
—
Isabel didn’t know what to expect when the duke’s carriage pulled up to an elegant home on the outskirts of London. She stared up at the three-storied red brick and stone mansion.
“What is this place?” she asked the footman who helped her alight.
“Welcome to Lyon House,” he said.
“Whose house is this?”
“His Grace’s. He rarely visits, but he is in residence at the moment.”
A butler emerged from the stately home. “Good afternoon, Miss Finch. His Grace is expecting you and the girls. If you’ll please follow me.”
To Isabel’s surprise, he led them away from the house and down a stone path toward the gardens. The grounds were artfully designed in a pastoral setting with vines climbing high up stone walls.
Prudie bounced with excitement. “Do you think Cousin Adam will notice our dresses, Izzy?”
“I think he might.” Isabel and Prudie were wearing their matching gowns, the ones Sunny had procured for them from the modiste. “You look very pretty in pink.”
“Do I look like a princess?”
“Yes, you most assuredly do.”
Happy with that response, Prudie skipped ahead to join Patience who’d stopped to admire the lily pond until the butler urged them along by reminding them that His Grace awaited their arrival.
