Finally the door closed and they were alone at last.
"Well, it could have been a lot worse," Gabrielle said with a sigh.
"It could also have gone better," he sighed. "I was sure he thought I was about to attack him with the toasting fork."
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "It wasn't that bad."
"You can say that because you've never looked at me with anything other than love in your gaze. But I know what he was thinking. Lunatic."
"I'm sorry, but what other choice did we have other than to come here to ask for help?" she argued as she began to sort through their new collection of clothes, some of the items, like the undergarments, still wrapped in the shop's tissue paper.
"None, of course," he said quietly, before sitting down in the window seat.
"Exactly, darling. Which is why I didn't want to lie to them. It was far better to own up now than be caught out later. And only fair if they are to be put in danger too just by speaking with you, as you've always asserted. It will take time for them to get used to us, and naturally they are concerned for me and the children, but you'll see. It will be fine."
"I certainly hope so."
His tone was heavy with misgiving, however. Gabrielle gave her most optimistic smile and said, "It would be the same no matter where we were starting over. We need to let people get to know us, see that we can be trusted. You're so much better now, and truly no longer an addict, so long as you're careful to never take laudanum or opiates of any sort again.
"Other than that, we have nothing to fear. You're so gracious and kind. A gentleman in the truest sense of the word. They will love you too once they get to know you, just as I do," she added, stooping to give him a warm kiss.
"I would hate to shame you."
Gabrielle laughed at that. "After what I've learned about my brother Chauncey? I doubt that's possible. Besides, I love you, Simon, and I don't care what people think. So let me just go check on my sister while you pick out a set of clothes to put on after your bath, and then we'll get settled into our new home."
"A bath. My goodness," he said, shaking his head. "You'll forgive me if I want to wallow in it for a fortnight."
She grinned. "So long as I get to soak with you some of the time, you can wallow as long as you like."
He headed into the well-appointed bathing chamber, humming happily at the prospect. "Another glimpse of heaven," he said with a dramatic sigh.
She heard a loud whooshing sound, and giggled. "Aye, indoor plumbing. All the Rakehells are very modern."
"From a hole in the ground to the most modern watercloset in one fell swoop. I feel like I'm dreaming."
She peeped in through the open doorway, and stared at the cream and gold tiled room, with a large scallop-shell shaped bath in the far corner. "Paradise indeed."
"With the help of that tub, you can be Venus rising from the sea foam like the Botticelli painting."
"You can be my Neptune, darling. Enjoy it. Let me just see to my sister while you soak, and I promise to work you up into the most wonderful lather when I get back."
He stooped to kiss her, and pulled her tightly to him by cupping both his hands on her rump, leaving her in no doubt of his desires. "Mmmm, I promise to hurry," she practically purred.
"And don't worry about a change of clothes for me. I think a Bacchanalian toga from the sheets is about all I'm going to manage from now until you report for work Monday morning."
"Now that really sounds like heaven," she said, casting a sideways glance at the privy, which set them both giggling. She stroked his cheek, then managed to wriggle free of his embrace and pointed. "I'm sure there must be all sorts of nice soap in the cabinet under the sink, so why don't you see what you can find for us both. I'll be back soon."
With one final kiss, she headed next door, where she looked in on Lucinda once more, and then made sure Clarissa had all she could want in her small snug chamber next door.
"It's perfect, really. No need to worry," the dark-haired woman said with a rare smile.
"Thank you for all your help. You chose perfectly for all of us. You've really been a guardian angel, and I won't forget all your assistance and kindness. We never could have managed to get everyone here safely in once piece without you all these weeks, Clarissa, so thank you again, from the bottom of my heart."
"I was glad to help you all," she said, returning the hug Gabrielle gave her.
"So I want us all to be able to put the past to rest now that we're here. There is to be no more talk of crimes and bloodstained hands. You've more than redeemed yourself, my dear friend, and please know that wherever Simon and I ever make our home, you will always be welcome."
"The same for you, Miss. If there's aught you ever need--"
"Gabrielle, please. None of this Miss. And make sure you let me pay you back every penny you advanced to us."
Clarissa waved away the notion at once. "Don't mention it."
"Don't be silly. You have children to feed. In fact, if you like it here, I don't see any reason you couldn't find a place for you all..."
Clarissa shook her head. "Thank you kindly, but I'm needed in London."
"Aye, more's the pity. But you know where we all are if you or the children ever change your minds."
She gave her another grateful hug, then headed back to her own chamber. Once there, she locked the door, then went into the bathing chamber, where Simon was laying up at the ceiling, covered up to his neck in bubbles.
"All right, darling?"
"The best ever, my love."
"Would you like me to scrub your back?"
He grinned. "I seem to recall that that was pretty much how our whole affaire started."
She gave him a pert look. "Are you complaining?"
"No, not at all. But I just think you should get out of those clothes quickly before I burst with desire."
"Hmm, bursting, eh? How is this for bursting?" She perched on the edge of the tub, took his wrist and guided his hand under her skirts.
"Oh my. Can I help you with that?"
Her eyes sparkled with mirth and barely suppressed desire. "I'm counting on it. In fact, would you care to undress me?"
"Yes, please."
"Only no games tonight. I really am desperate for you, Simon darling."
"I never play any games, my love. They're fantasies, but they're all perfectly serious."
She nodded. "Perfect is the word I was looking for."
"In that case, come here. Your wish is my command. You can have anything you like tonight."
"Anything?"
His eyes glowed. "Anything, Mistress." He sobered at the use of the word. "Wife, fiancee, er,..."
"Don't worry about it," she said, standing up to shuck off her clothes beside the tub.
"I do, though. I love you so much, and would never wish to bring about your ruin..."
She shook her head. "Darling, we've discussed this before. I'm no Society belle any more. And we're married in our hearts. So if this is your way of trying to distract me from all the naughty things I want you to do to me tonight, well all can say is, it won't work. I intend to show you no mercy."
He smiled slowly. "In that case, let the games begin."
She climbed into the tub in front of him, and she leaned back against his broad chest with a sigh.
"There. Perfect."
His soapy hands rose up to caress her breasts. "No, now it's perfect. Just wake me if I fall asleep."
"Don't think I can, love," she murmured. "I'll be asleep too in a minute."
"I know. The rampant passion can wait. We're here now, and safe. This is the start of our new life together, my lovely Gabrielle. Whatever you want, you have only to say."
"Then please help me with my back so we can finish up here."
"Gladly."
They delighted in the erotic contact in the warm water, but Simon was right. This was just the beginning. There was no need to grab at pleasure greedily, when it was always present with e
very passing moment they spent together.
And there was delight in the little things as well, the intimacy of slippery flesh on flesh which soon left them both excited and finally replete after the most blissful lovemaking in the warm water.
At last they tore themselves away from one another to help each other wash, rinse, and dry. Not a moment too soon, they fell into bed naked, their eyelids drooping.
"This is bliss," he breathed against her hair as they snuggled under the covers he drew up over them. "A real bed. And don't even try to dignify what we had at the inns as that."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she muttered, her cheek squashed against his chest sleepily.
He tucked her into his body more comfortably, and they slept the dreamless sleep of exhaustion and complete satisfaction, both feeling safe for the first time in weeks. And sure that despite all the wonderful things they had shared, the best would be yet to come, as long as they had really given their enemies the slip...
Chapter Twenty-three
Gabrielle was delighted to be at Barkston House, but she was concerned that living there wasn't going to be easy for Simon after all he had been through.
Between Randall and Michael's family there were twenty children all together, ranging in age from twelve to infancy. She feared that her beloved might find the contrast between his lone years of incarceration and suddenly being thrust into a busy family life almost too much to bear.
To her surprise, he was exceptionally patient with the huge Avenel brood. After a week or so of timidly testing him, the children actually began to seek him out for games and little chats.
These conversations were so adorable she simply had to smile. No matter what the age of the child, he always had something to say to him or her.
Simon seemed to know all sorts of unusual things about nature, and could identify almost any species of flower and every breed of rose without any difficulty whatsoever. He always seemed to manage to adjust his discourse to interest each child.
Even the babies, though they could not speak, basked in his attention. Gabrielle could see them look around and smile whenever they heard his deep voice. They gooed and cooed at him like turtledoves.
He did it right back, earning him some very warm looks from Isolde and Bryony, who both declared him a marvel as soon as the women were alone together sewing.
"You're so lucky. What an extraordinary man. Not that I'm complaining about my spouse, but I've never seen anyone so devoted to his, well, wife and family," Bryony praised.
"He certainly is unique, it has to be said," Gabrielle agreed with a small smile.
Randall and Michael's mother, the Dowager Lady Hazelmere took to the ‘young man' at once. Gabrielle was amused at the description, but Simon seemed to have a special innocence about him despite all he had been through.
She guessed that he had to be well into his thirties, if not older. The number of years he had mentioned as having passed, things he recalled about the war, all had to make him nearly contemporary with the Rakehells so far as she could tell, yet Michael, one of the eldest of the group, didn't know him, a fact which dejected her no end.
But at last she decided the past didn't matter. It was who he was now that counted.
The good dowager agreed, and seemed intent upon making him a third son, she was so kind and affectionate with him. She even asked them both to call her Mama. Since this was preferable to calling her by her given name, the only other choice she declared they would be allowed, they acceded to her wishes.
Gabrielle sat helping her cousins' wives with their endlessly full work baskets while Simon and the Dowager worked in the garden and the children were at lessons.
Sooner or later the younger ones would come out for a game or a look at what he was doing and want to ‘help.' More often than not they got covered with dirt, but he would make sure the boys were clean and tidy.
He would also mop the girls' faces and hands and put clean pinafores on them with an unflappability which was quite remarkable in a man his size with such fierce intelligence.
For it soon became apparent that there was very little he didn't know. He was continually providing precise dates and explanations which showed a thorough knowledge of each subject.
He didn't simply like to hear the sound of his own voice. In fact, most of the time, he seemed to be listening to something else entirely.
Gabrielle often observed him following several conversations at the dinner table at once all around him without any difficulty whatsoever. Again, it was remarkable considering how many years he had spent almost totally alone.
She decided it was not just vain and affected showing off, and desire to insert his opinions, but a genuine interest in and sensitivity to people.
One day Simon overheard the boys discussing the dates of the reigns of the kings and queens of England, and corrected their numerous errors without even batting an eyelash.
Randall was surprised that the tutor could have made so many mistakes, and went to look up the contentious dates. He then called in Mr. Steyning, and confirmed that the chap had in fact got them all wrong.
Simon had shrugged and said it wasn't so important to memorise things as to get children to think for themselves. But Randall became rather uneasy a few days later when he overheard Mr. Steyning being highly critical of Radical reformers.
"Rather like biting the hand that feeds you, is it not, sir?" Randall asked the sharp-featured little man coolly.
He had bowed curtly. "I meant no offence. But I am entitled to my opinion."
"And the children to theirs. They should have the benefit of all sorts of different viewpoints, and not be told that they are stupid, treasonous, even. Or a few of the other choice words and phrases I myself or my brother have heard you utter."
"If that man Mr. Drake is trying to take my post, sir, then he has another think coming," he said nastily.
Randall blinked in astonishment before replying, "No such thing. If anyone has taken it from you, Mr. Steyning, it's you yourself. You came to me highly recommended, but on the whole I fear that your knowledge is far too limited to ever give my sons the polish they will need for school and university. The boys have already pretty much outstripped what you have to teach.
"So consider yourself given a month's notice. You will drill them in Latin, the only subject upon which you appear to speak with real authority, and you will not discuss politics in any way shape or form with them. If they have any questions, they can come to me or their uncle."
Mr. Steyning was furious, and acted oddly whenever he saw Simon after that. But since there were no overt moves for Simon to replace him, he went at the end of the month without causing too much trouble.
That was not to say that the persecution of Simon stopped there, however. For the nursery maid Margaret, who had set her sights on the handsome man, only to be rebuffed time and time again, decided she would cause trouble as well.
She envied Gabrielle her seemingly easy situation as a poor relation of the family, and was determined to make life as uncomfortable for them all as she could.
Simon was oblivious to the buxom wench's machinations, mainly because he had eyes only for Gabrielle, and didn't bother to wonder at the significance of the scheming girl's behaviour.
But one day she came up with a plot so foul, Simon was convinced his happy new world had come crashing down around his ears.
Little Adeline had been helping in the garden, and she and some of the other children had initiated a game of hide and seek. Whilst playing excitedly, Adeline fell down in a puddle of mud up to her waist, which soaked right through all her layers of clothes. Simon scooped up the child and soon saw she was saturated.
"Darling, she's soaked through," he called.
Gabrielle, working with Randall on his correspondence, popped her head out of the French doors which led to the library. "Do you mind taking her up to the nursery? One of the maids will get her changed."
"I don't mind at all. Sorry to interrupt."
He gave her a warm kiss, dangling the little girl between them for a moment, before raising her for a kiss too.
"You can interrupt our estate business like that any time," she said with a smile, and patted the little girl on the cheek.
"I'm just going to tend to Adeline, Mama," he called over to the Dowager, who was pruning at the far end of a trellis.
She looked up, and her eyes widened at the site of the muddy little mite. "Oh, er, yes, quite. Thank you."
"See you in a minute. Don't let the boys play with the secateurs."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6 Page 23
