by Juniper Bell
“Not a peep. The little lamb just smiled up at her as if she were an angel passing through.”
“And Miranda?”
“She held her as if she were God’s own cherub. I do believe it’s a match made in heaven.”
The Marquis relaxed against the cushioned back of the chair. Everything in the room suddenly looked brighter. The bouquet of daffodils he’d brought for Alicia glowed like the summer sun. The patterned wallpaper—dancing shepherdesses in lilac—turned whimsical rather than silly. A smile quirked his lips. “I’m relieved. It was difficult enough to get her to come here. I don’t know what I would have done if the baby had turned away from her, or vice versa.”
“But, my dear,” said Alicia, a perplexed frown creasing her forehead. “Why does it matter quite so much? You can always gift her with a sum of money and send her on her way. That would be the logical course of action.”
“A sum of money won’t watch over her. It won’t take care that no one hurts her or insults her. It won’t pry open that closed heart of hers and release her secrets.”
Alicia peered at him. “Do you have feelings for this girl?”
“Of course not.”
“You lie.”
“I have…protective feelings for her. She’s…fragile. Vulnerable.”
Alicia gave an indelicate snort. “She’s been taking care of herself very effectively without you.”
“Yes, but…she’s out of place. She shouldn’t be slaving for ungrateful people like my wife. She’s finer than that. More sensitive.”
“I give up,” said Alicia, tossing her embroidery aside.
“I thought it looked quite nice.”
“Not that, idiot. On you. You say you have no feelings, then you claim protective feelings—not something you’re known for—then you speak of her as if she were a piece of priceless crystal. What am I to think?”
“Think what you wish. But I need your help.”
“How so?”
“She’ll be working for you. You’ll see her in more unguarded moments. You can…soften her toward me. Make her see I’m not Bluebeard and Attila the Hun combined.”
Alicia tapped a finger to her lips. “You want me to seduce her for you.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“But I know you, dearest Gerard. I’ve never seen you behave toward a woman the way you do toward her. You look at her with a sort of thirst, as if she could wash away all your sins. I see the look in your eyes. You want her.”
“Stop it. I promised not to touch her unless she wished me to.”
A broad smile crossed Alicia’s wide-eyed, open face. “It all becomes clear. You wish me to make her wish for it.”
“Could you?”
She burst into laughter. “Oh my dear, deluded man. Some…instinct tells me she already does.”
Chapter Four
Sweetbriar Manor—Nursemaid’s room
The chamber that the Countess of Dorchester assigned to me was akin to my idea of heaven. At Beaumont House I’d slept in milady’s dressing room on a hard wooden pallet. Here I was given a proper bed in a room adjoining the nursery. It was covered with a featherbed so thick I longed to jump up and down on it like a child. It was hard for me to pay attention to the rest of the Countess’ words.
“Anyone who comes to us from the Marquis is a friend,” she was saying as she dandled Rose, her baby, on her hip. I knew little of tending babies, but I’d always thought highborn ladies left that work to their servants. The Countess of Dorchester seemed to be unusual in many ways.
“Oh but I didn’t…”
“I understand you were working for his late wife.” An expression almost like pity crossed her face. “A fascinating woman, God rest her soul.”
“Yes, milady.”
She went to the small window that looked down over the formal gardens to one side of the house. This was one treat I promised myself once I was alone. I wanted to gaze upon the riot of pink roses and the intricate boxwood hedge to my heart’s content.
“We are not an ordinary family, Miranda. We have our own way of doing things. We don’t stand on ceremony much, though when we’re in London no one would find cause for complaint. But here, in the country, in this lovely place, we allow ourselves to surrender to the beauty everywhere around and within us.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what she was referring to. Surrender, what an odd choice of word. But “odd” seemed to be the theme of the Dorchester household. Odd but endearing. As soon as I’d seen the Countess, I’d dismissed the wild rumors the Marquise had repeated to me. She didn’t look at all scandalous. Her hair, the shade of autumn wheat, was dressed in a simple, practical style. She wore a peach muslin morning dress with white cross-stitching around the neckline. It made her look fresh as a walk in the country. Her open, heart-shaped face and the gray eyes that met mine so directly made her seem utterly trustworthy. Everything about her was forthright, open, warm…honest. If I had met her before my flight, I would have looked up to her as an older cousin or some such.
She hadn’t mentioned the fact that I spoke like her. I tried to speak as little as possible so she might not notice I didn’t sound like a servant. If she had, she didn’t say so.
“Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?” she asked, looking up from the window.
I gaped. The housekeeper ought to be showing me around and explaining my duties. The idea of a nursemaid asking questions of a Countess seemed absurd. “No, milady.”
“You can always ask Graham, of course. She knows everything and will be truly grateful for a helping hand. But I want you to feel free to talk to me as well.” She offered me an intimate, confiding sort of smile. “I grew up with nothing but brothers, and I’m always grateful for female companionship out here in the country.”
I simply nodded as though I were an automaton. What on earth could she be talking about? We weren’t going to be taking tea together and gossiping about the local gentry. Were we?
The oddness of the Dorchester household was brought home to me over the next few weeks. The Earl, who was technically my master, was rarely in residence. When he appeared, he blew into the house like a gust of north wind, hale and vigorous, shouting for his groom or trumpeting the news of his latest acquisition of horseflesh. He was a handsome fellow, with the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He and the Countess seemed to treat each other like old friends; I would have said like brother and sister, except that I did spot the Earl with his hand on her posterior. Still, he never stayed more than one night before he was off to a hunting party or a horse auction.
In my former life, horses had been my passion, so I felt some kinship with the Earl. And as an employer, he could hardly be faulted. His only words to me were, “Welcome to Sweetbriar and keep up the good work.” Hardly a strict master.
The Duke of Warrington, on the other hand, seemed to be in the Countess’ company more often than not. I knew that aristocratic marriages were not likely to be love matches. But how usual was it for the wife to spend more time with another than with her husband? Or two noblemen? The Marquis and the Duke were both present more than the Earl, though I saw little of the Marquis at first.
If I doubted the Earl’s feelings for Lady Alicia, I couldn’t mistake the Duke’s. He was clearly completely, utterly smitten with the Countess, and she with him. Others might not have noticed all the little smiles and touches and whispers. But I, so frequently in close quarters with them, could hardly miss the constant flow of communication between them. He spent a great deal of time with little Rose too, and seemed completely familiar with the nursery routine. I frequently took orders from him. Did that make him my master rather than the Earl?
The Duke was just as handsome as the Earl, though some ten years older. He had thick chestnut hair and devastating eyes, the deep green of moss in a forest glade. I could certainly see why the Countess was so enraptured with him, though to my secret self, I admitted that the Marquis was the one who always capt
ured my attention.
Silly chit that I was. As if it mattered which of the three fine noblemen pleased me best. I was there to serve, whether it be one master or three.
* * * * *
The odd doings of the household came home to me a few afternoons later. I was rocking little Rose in her cradle. The baby blinked happily at me as she did when she was fighting sleep with all her might.
I ran a finger under her chin and sang softly. “Where the meadow grass grows, only the country mouse knows, where the green goose gathers, only the hunter tells…”
Slowly but surely, Rose’s eyelids drooped shut. When she was safely asleep, I tucked her blanket around her. Then I heard Lady Alicia’s voice speak softly from the doorway. “Where did you find such an unusual lullaby?”
I looked up, startled by her silent approach. “I believe I must have heard it myself, as a child. I may not remember all the words correctly. Green goose seems unlikely.”
The Marquis would have been satisfied; I spoke with my natural accent, the one I’d been raised to. Not a single member of the household had ever remarked on it.
“Where were you raised?” milady asked.
Much as I adored her, I preferred to keep certain things private. “In the north,” I said, abruptly enough to encourage no further questioning. “Shall we leave her to nap, milady?”
“Yes, please. I have a gift for you.”
My eyes widening in surprise, I rose to my feet. “I have no need for gifts.”
“You must not argue with your mistress,” she scolded with a smile. “Come to my chambers, if you please.” Obediently, I followed her out the nursery and down the stairs. “I hope you know how delighted we are that you’ve come to us. You’re just what Rose needed; even Graham is vastly relieved, though she’d never come out and say so. Everyone here thinks the world of you. The Marquis told me of your healing skills, so I know you could easily find a position elsewhere, something perhaps more to your liking than spending all your time with an infant.”
“Oh no, milady,” I protested.
But Lady Alicia merely smiled and beckoned me into her chamber. I couldn’t help sighing as I entered it, so comfortable and welcoming, the bedcovers a delicious shade of periwinkle, the walls like clotted cream. On her bed were laid out two morning gowns, one a crisp, creamy dotted swiss, the other a muslin in palest shell-pink. “My maid was cleaning out my wardrobe and found these two dresses, neither of which I’ve ever worn and both of which would suit you to perfection.”
I gazed at the dresses as if they were cakes I wanted to gobble up. “Do you mean—”
“Yes, I mean they’re yours, if they please you. Here.” She picked up the dotted swiss and held it against my front, turning me so I faced the mirror on the front of the wardrobe. “I knew it. Perfect! You must try it on.”
“But… I couldn’t…”
Lady Alicia looked at me curiously. “Is it modesty or dislike of the dress?”
“I love the dress! But look at me. It’s not meant for me.” I dropped my head in shame, tilting the scarred side toward my mistress. Mayhap she’d forgotten about it, forgotten the hideous flaw that made a mockery of pretty gowns.
“Oh my dear.” With one hand, she put the dress back on the bed and with the other touched my chin, urging my face up until our eyes met in the mirror. “Are you referring to this?” She brushed the lightest touch across my scar.
Stunned into stillness, I merely stared back, tears pooling in my eyes.
“You’re a lovely girl, my dear,” Lady Alicia murmured. “Look at you.” She traced the line of my jaw. “Exquisite bone structure. And your skin is as soft as Rose’s. Especially right here, in the curve of your neck. Have you ever felt your own skin?”
I shook my head quickly. I had no time for such indulgences, except in the dark of the night, but that couldn’t possibly be what the Countess was talking about.
“I never thought about how we must feel to our men until I… Well, until I was initiated into the secrets of the marriage bed.”
My breath quickened. Alicia feathered delicate touches along my neck. I wondered if she could feel my rapid pulse, and if there was some way to slow it down.
“That intrigues you, doesn’t it? I knew you were a kindred spirit.” In the mirror, Alicia gave me an intimate smile, which I was too confused to return. Alicia spread her hands across my shoulders in a caressing manner. She lightly ran her hands down my upper arms, then back up again. My heart in my throat, excited, mortified, I felt my nipples rise and prayed she couldn’t see their peaks pushing against my bodice. “The Marquis wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.”
I jumped at her mention of that name. “The…Marquis?”
“Yes, my dearest friend, Gerard. I suppose the Marquise told you terrible things about him?” With her thumbs, she found the tight muscles next to my shoulder blades and gently rubbed them. A small sigh escaped me and my head tilted back; I couldn’t help it. Her touch was utterly delicious.
“Well, yes, quite a few, actually. I don’t know how much is the truth.”
“I made it a practice never to believe anything the Marquise said, but that’s not to say the Marquis isn’t terribly wicked. He is, in his own particular way. I should know, since he deflowered me.”
It took a full moment for my half-shut eyes to snap open. “My lady!”
Alicia laughed. “What else was he supposed to do when he knew my own husband would make a hash of it? He didn’t want me to turn my back on all the pleasure he knew awaited me if I could only open my eyes to it.”
I whirled around. My own eyes must have looked like platters. Her gaze drifted to my front, where I knew my body’s truth was written in two hard little peaks.
Alicia smiled knowingly, as if we were equals or even friends. She reached up to cup my scarred cheek. “I feel that you are a kindred spirit, and so I feel free to share my philosophy with you. Society’s rules leave some of us out in the cold. Why should those rules be allowed to dictate our lives? Everything good in my life, everything, without exception, has come from following my own rule—that of love.”
She caressed the scar, the raised skin hard under the flesh of her thumb. “I don’t know who did this to you, but I hope you don’t let it take away your womanhood, your capacity for pleasure, your ability to love and be loved.” Lightly, Alicia released my face. As her hand dropped, it brushed, by accident and ever so slightly, against my nipple.
I suppressed a gasp as a ripple of reaction shuddered through me. I prayed Lady Alicia hadn’t noticed, and indeed, she made no comment as she continued toward the door. “I know we’re thoroughly shocking, and if you choose to leave us I will completely understand. But I would be saddened indeed.”
From the doorway, she glanced back at the dresses. “And those belong to you no matter what. I will leave you now so you can try them on. Or mull over the odd ways of the Countess of Dorchester.” With a wry smile, she left the bedchamber, softly closing the door to give me privacy.
As soon as she was gone, I put my hand to the nipple that still throbbed with almost painful arousal. Did she know she’d touched my bosom? Did she know that my nipples tingled and cried out for a caress? Her hands had been so gentle as they touched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on the rest of my body.
Oh I was a wicked girl. I stood there, facing her mirror, and clutched my hands to my front. I crushed my breasts in my two hands. It felt better—and worse. It eased the itch and yet made me yearn for more. Feeling heated and confused, I stripped off my dress until I wore only my shift. I looked at my body in the mirror and found I liked what I saw. My face might be hideous, but my body was… Well, quite fetching. Slender but curving at the hips and bosom. My nipples were round, dark shadows under my shift.
I wondered what the Marquis would think if he saw me like this. Would he wish to deflower me the way he had the Countess? Introduce me to the full array of carnal pleasures? I wasn’t entirely s
ure what that meant, but I did know how my body responded to the idea. Waves of heat shimmered from my head to my toes, and seemed to center particularly on that part between my legs, the part the Marquis had pleasured. Would he kneel down and put his head between my thighs, press his cynical mouth into my mound?
I tore myself away from the mirror. Where did such thoughts come from? What had the Countess done to me with her seductive words and guileless smile? Every good thing in my life has come from following one rule—that of love. Those words echoed through my mind with a sort of mocking cadence.
I buried my face in the pink muslin dress as the harsh face of my guardian hovered before my mind’s eye.
“I rule this house, no one else. Whatever I tell you to do, that’s what you must do. Did I not tell you to stay away from that boy?”
“But he loves me. And I love him. He wants to marry me as soon as you give your permission, even if we have to wait until I’m eighteen. Look, he gave me a promise ring for my birthday.” I held it up and he snatched it from my hand. He flung it across the room. It skittered into a corner with a sad clunking sound.
“The answer is no.”
“But…but why not? He’s the Squire’s son, he would be an excellent match for me even if I didn’t love him. He knows I have no dowry. Why are you not pleased? I wouldn’t be a burden on you and your household anymore.” Completely flummoxed, I’d let my distress show, something I didn’t usually do in my guardian’s presence. It was always best to show no emotion.
“I have other plans for you.”
“What do you mean? Is there someone else you want me to marry? You’ve never mentioned anyone.”
He’d never discussed anything like a London Season or any other method for finding me a husband.
“No, marriage is not in your future.” A thick, dark look gathered across his ruddy, bloated face. His eyes, lost in folds of flesh, looked me up and down. Horror swept through me. I didn’t know what he was speaking of, but I knew him, I knew he cared nothing for me or my happiness. And I forgot myself. I shouted back at him, defying him, telling him there was no way he could stop me, that he was only my guardian until I turned twenty-one, and that one day I’d control my own life, my own future and I’d find my own husband—
