As Aldenwood had predicted, the rest of the summer proved to be cooler and rainier than usual. The ditches on the Gisborn farm ended up being used for drainage rather than for irrigation. From May to September, the gray skies and prolonged rain made for slower growing crops. Despite a late snowfall in June, none of the Gisborn crops failed completely. The earl and the tenants that farmed his fields struggled to keep the fields drained, directing some of the water into the greenhouses and the rest into the ditches. Meanwhile, despite the lack of regular sunlight, the plants in the greenhouses seemed to thrive.
With the harvest still seven weeks away, the rain stopped for several days and the land began to dry out. It was during this respite from the colder weather when the Wainwrights came calling on the Forsters.
“Carrying a child becomes you,” Countess Gisborn said in a hushed voice, linking her arm into the Duchess of Chichester’s as the two made their way along the riverbank. The River Isis, or Upper Thames as some referred to it, flowed gently under the late summer sky. The afternoon, not nearly as warm as usual, was the perfect time to walk the grounds of Ellsworth Park and Gisborn Hall while their husbands hunted pheasants in a field nearby.
“And you, too,” Charlotte replied with a mischievous smile, not absolutely sure that Hannah carried a child, but certain enough to make the comment.
Hannah paused in mid-step. “How ... how did you know?” she asked in surprise, her own smile lighting an already glowing face.
Charlotte squeezed Hannah’s arm, moving to face her friend. “You glow like you have a dozen candles inside you. I have never seen you look more ... stunning,” she said as she cocked her head. From the moment she and Joshua Wainwright, the Duke of Chichester, had arrived at Gisborn Hall, Charlotte was sure her best friend was with child. “Even at your coming-out ball, you did not look this glorious.” Charlotte regarded her friend for a moment more, happy for her in that Hannah had married a man who needed an heir while she needed nothing more than a child to love.
“Early January, I think,” Hannah stated before Charlotte could ask when she might deliver.
“So soon?” Charlotte retorted, an eyebrow cocked in a teasing manner. “Oh, Henry must be thrilled.” Despite his having inherited an earldom from his uncle, the Earl of Gisborn would always be simply Henry Forster to her. Just a week after he’d left her in the garden at Wisborough Oaks, she had received his letter thanking her for the suggestion that he consider Lady Hannah Slater as a wife and hoping that, despite what had happened that day in the duke’s garden, they could remain friends. The following day, she received Hannah’s short note saying she had accepted the earl’s proposal of marriage.
“Henry is beside himself, although, after reading George’s letter last week, he may be feeling a bit ... frightened,” Hannah said with a shake of her head. George Bennett-Jones, Viscount Bostwick, had sent the note to Henry following his ‘recovery’ from having personally delivered his baby boy. His wife was quite shocked when her water broke shortly after they’d been intimate. The poor man had been caught unawares – Elizabeth’s labor had been so quick, there had been no time to summon the midwife, and the only servant in the household at the time had been the cook, who at least knew enough to boil water and supply a suitable knife for cutting the umbilical cord.
In the end, David Morgan Bennett-Jones was born into his father’s nervous but capable hands. George’s one additional comment in his letter had been that, although he continued to share the marriage bed with Elizabeth and their newborn, he was quite relieved to have a few weeks off from sexual intercourse since, he wrote, I am exhausted. Who knew a woman with child could be so ripe and ready for intimacy any time of the day or night?
Hannah could only wonder how Elizabeth had fared during the childbirth.
Charlotte giggled. “Wait until you hear from Elizabeth,” she countered, her hand coming up to her mouth. Her face was flushed. “I don’t know how they’ll tell David when he’s old enough to hear the tale, but I’m sure George will think of something.”
Inhaling sharply, Hannah turned to regard her friend. “And what did she write about it?” Hannah demanded to know. She could only imagine how Elizabeth would behave during childbirth. Probably with a good deal of complaining, screaming, making threats ...
“She was ... humbled, I think,” Charlotte replied, her head dipping slightly. “George had just given her some diamond and emerald baubles and she insisted they ...” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if someone might overhear them. “Have intercourse, which apparently, they’d already done a couple of times earlier that day because her back was hurting, and George didn’t know what else to do for her to help alleviate the pain. The next thing they knew, he was stuffing pillows behind her and telling her she had to hold onto something other than his hand because he needed it to deliver their son!” Charlotte ignored Hannah’s wide-open eyes and added, “She said George was so calm and firm with her – told her what to do – then their son was suddenly in his arms and he was weeping uncontrollably. Elizabeth said she cried worse than the baby.” This last was delivered with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “She’s nursing the babe herself, since they’ll be in the country until after Christmastime.”
Hannah held both hands to her mouth, wondering how she could convince Henry to bed her only hours before their baby was born. And how would she even know when that was? “Do you suppose intercourse was the key to having an easier delivery?” she wondered, her dimple appearing.
Shrugging, Charlotte allowed a grin. “I have reason to believe Joshua will think so,” she hinted, her face turning a bright pink despite her bonnet. They walked along for awhile, sharing a companionable silence as Harold ran up to join them, tagging alongside Hannah. Aware that Charlotte wanted to say something, Hannah regarded her with a sideways glance.
“What is it?” she asked, looping her right arm into Charlotte’s left.
“I was wondering how Henry reacted when you told him you were with child,” Charlotte murmured, her eyes bright. “I would have loved to have seen his reaction.”
Hannah grinned, dipping her head. “Oh, Lottie, you should have seen his face. I told him at one point I thought I might be, but I didn’t tell him I was absolutely sure until the day after I got your news that you and His Grace were coming to visit,” she explained, a hand moving to rest against her abdomen. When she heard Charlotte’s sudden inhalation of breath, she turned to regard her friend.
“Did you think he would object to our visit?” Charlotte asked, her brows furrowing in concern, thinking the countess had used the good news of her pregnancy to counter the bad news of the Wainwrights’ impending arrival.
“Oh, heavens, no!” Hannah managed to say, knowing it wasn’t quite the truth. She had been worried that day before their afternoon tryst in the study, but Henry had made it very clear he hoped the Wainwrights would accept his offer of hospitality. “He feels quite beholden to you, Lottie, and not just for the gift of Ellsworth Park. As do I, actually,” Hannah said happily, her brilliant smile displaying white teeth between berry-colored lips.
Charlotte grinned as she watched her friend, remembering the welcome Henry had given her when she and Joshua arrived the day before. He had kissed the back of her hand and then apologized to Joshua before leaning over to kiss the corner of her mouth and to whisper, “My sweet Charlotte,” in her ear. The exchange was not the least bit awkward, nor did Joshua seem to mind the liberty their host had taken.
“So, you two ... suit one another then?”
The former Lady Hannah Slater blushed and continued to stroll along the river bank. “We do, indeed. I am finding married life quite ... pleasant, actually, not at all how I expected. But I know it’s all because of Henry. He is nothing like the insipid gentlemen I met at balls during last Season,” she explained as they continued their walk. “From the time he came to Devonville House to meet with my father about courting me, he has been everything I could want in a husband.” At Charlotte’s
quick inhalation of breath, Hannah glanced at her friend. “Do not fret, for I truly do not expect him to ever say he loves me,” she added quickly, thinking Charlotte might be concerned for her heart. “But he dotes on me as if he does, Lottie. He brings me bouquets of flowers. Gives me the most exquisite jewelry. He’s quite ... careful about our time together. He actually asks me during dinner if it might be alright for him to visit me later.” She said this last part in a hushed voice, as if she was concerned that someone might overhear them. “As if I must grant him permission to bed me!” She didn’t add that Henry spent every night sleeping next to her.
“As he should!” Charlotte countered, secretly pleased to hear the man she might have married was treating her best friend with such courtesy.
Hannah grinned at that, and then blushed bright red before saying, “I have never denied him, of course. And one time, I went to his bedchamber, very late at night!” That had been the time when Henry had come home from Sarah’s, just having learned she had accepted Tad McDonald’s marriage proposal.
“Hannah!” Charlotte exclaimed, covering her mouth in mock horror at her friend’s admission. She wasn’t about to admit that she woke up next to Joshua every morning, sometimes so aroused she simply used her new-found skills to seduce him from his slumber. He never seemed to mind waking to her kisses and gentle touches, although he accused her of being wanton on several occasions.
She was never left with the impression that he found that trait objectionable, however.
“Henry is an amazing man,” Hannah continued proudly. “He spends at least an hour each day at the dower house with Sarah and their son. I tried to insist that those two move into the main house, but Sarah refused. She was quite determined to keep to her station in life, and she wanted her son to grow up understanding that, although he will be an educated gentleman, he will never be a member of the ton.”
Charlotte considered the news about Sarah and the bastard son Henry could never declare an heir. “It is most unfortunate our odd laws do not allow for his first son to inherit,” she murmured, hoping Hannah wouldn’t take offense. Hannah’s firstborn son would inherit the Gisborn earldom upon his death, after all.
Sighing loudly, Hannah nodded. “As I said, Henry is not like the others in London. I find I rather like that he is a very hard worker, and he sees to the welfare of all his tenants and his employees. A life of leisure does not suit him, so I rather think the ton would not think kindly of him if we lived in Town,” she explained with a shrug, alluding to the members of the peerage who shunned those that performed any kind of work, even if they had to do so to make a living. “And he informed me very early on that he has no plans to take a mistress,” she added, her brows furrowing, as if the news had somehow bothered her.
Finding the comment odd, Charlotte gave Hannah a sideways glance. “He told me he loves Sarah,” she said quietly. “I expect he wishes to remain loyal to her.”
Hannah shook her head. “At one time, yes. But Sarah has decided to move on with her life,” she said with a sigh. “Just after they made arrangements for their son to attend Abingdon School next month, Sarah told Henry she had accepted a proposal of marriage from an innkeeper in Bampton. I think the earl was very ... hurt, but he gave her his blessing. He could have refused to allow the marriage, of course, since he provided protection for her.” Hannah recalled how Henry had seemed so broken after Sarah had told him about the innkeeper’s proposal, as if his entire world had come crumbling down around him. He’d been sobbing when she went to his room and offered herself to him. The sex they’d shared that night had been frantic and a bit rough and somehow exciting, but Henry had said he never wanted it to be like that again. “I am the only woman he beds.”
Charlotte stopped on the path and stared at her friend in disbelief. “Indeed?” she responded, her mouth remaining open in a most unbecoming manner. “Oh, this is ... this is most unexpected,” she murmured before her attention returned to Hannah, remembering Henry’s declaration of love for his childhood sweetheart and the mother of his son.
Her friend nodded. “It was for me, as well, for that very evening, when he didn’t come to me in my room, I went to him and spent that night in his bedchamber. He clung to me as if his very life depended on it, Lottie. I felt ... pity for him,” she said quietly, her gloved hand clutching her skirts. “And that’s when I told him I thought I might be carrying his child. I wasn’t yet ... well, I wasn’t yet certain that I was, but I was sure enough, and he needed ... he needed a lifeline, I think,” she said with a sigh. “I do not mind telling you that I found myself quite in love with him just then.” A tear appeared in the corner of her eye and escaped to run down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and held her head a bit higher.
“Oh, Hannah,” Charlotte gasped, wrapping her arms around her friend, feeling such a mix of emotions. “I think he must love you,” she whispered, hoping that was truly the case, especially if Sarah’s affections lay elsewhere.
Hannah nodded again, but she seemed uncertain. “Ever since that night, he’s been bringing me flowers and gifts and ... kissing me in the most inappropriate places!” She said the final words in a hoarse whisper, as if being kissed by her husband was somehow scandalous.
Despite Hannah’s obvious confusion about her feelings for the Earl of Gisborn, Charlotte giggled, biting her lip when Hannah gave her a look of mortification. “He’s courting you, silly goose,” Charlotte said with a huge smile.
Hannah gasped, her hand once again going to her belly. “But, we’re already married!” They had come to the hillock that separated the field from the river, the hillock on which Hannah had found Harold just after he’d died. The dog now rested in the graveyard on the east end of the Gisborn lands, his plot marked with a simple headstone that read, “Harold MacDuff. Lifelong friend.” The smaller Harold stood at the base of the hillock and sniffed, occasionally lifting his head to glance at Hannah as he did so. Hannah gave him a wan smile and shook her head.
Shrugging, Charlotte took Hannah’s arm and started them along the path back towards Gisborn Hall. “And so you’ll be married and in love with one another. It’s really a rather pleasant way to spend life, I’m finding,” she said brightly.
Hesitating a moment, Hannah lowered her voice again. “So then, you and Wainwright are finding marriage ... pleasant?” she wondered, her question rather hesitant. “I know you claimed you wanted him for your husband, but Elizabeth was quite worried about you marrying the duke.”
“Because of his scars?” Charlotte guessed, remembering the reaction of her friend when she insisted she still planned to become the Duchess of Chichester despite her betrothed’s ruined face.
“I suppose,” Hannah agreed carefully, not wanting to admit that she shared their mutual friend’s concerns. “You do not seem to mind his ... disfigurement, but do you?”
Charlotte took a deep breath, realizing that she would be answering such a question for the rest of her life, although no one but Hannah or Elizabeth would dare ask it of her directly. “We all have scars, Hannah. Some just aren’t so visible,” she responded quietly. “At least with ‘His Grace with half a face’, I know where they all are. And some are ticklish,” she said in a teasing voice.
Hannah gasped at the familiar phrase. “Lottie!” she admonished her. “I cannot believe you actually said that!”
Allowing a broad smile, Charlotte regarded her dearest friend. “I love him, Hannah. I cannot imagine my life without him,” she stated happily. “Marriage has changed my life.” She paused a moment as she considered how to say what she was thinking. “There is something about men when they are about to be,” she paused, not quite sure how to put it. “There is something about ...“ She struggled to find the right word.
“Impending fatherhood?” a male voice interrupted in a teasing voice.
The women whirled around to find the Duke of Chichester and the Earl of Gisborn, hunting muskets in hand, on the path directly behind them. The two wore long tail
coats in deep russet and browns, buckskin breeches and top hats with small brims. Their hunting boots were scuffed from having been dragged through tall grasses. A footman, similarly dressed, followed them carrying a string of several pheasants attached to a pole while a white and black spaniel serpentined his way along the path. The three men bowed to the ladies, tipping their hats as they did so.
Charlotte gasped, wondering how much of their conversation the two men had overheard. Not much, she realized when she noticed that they would have had to come out of the trees along the river just after she and Hannah had turned to head back toward the house. She curtsied, as did Hannah. “Your Grace, my lord,” they spoke quietly, their cheeks blushing at being caught gossiping.
“You were saying, Your Grace?” Henry hinted as he held out his arm for Hannah, leaning over to kiss her temple as he did so. Hannah cocked an eyebrow in Charlotte’s direction, hoping the duchess noticed her husband kissing her as she’d claimed he’d been doing so much of lately.
“Yes, do tell,” Joshua encouraged Charlotte as he held out his arm for her.
Charlotte shook her head as she placed her hand on his arm. “Perhaps you can explain it, Your Grace,” she countered. “What is it about impending fatherhood that makes men so ... loving?” she asked in a teasing voice. She could hear Hannah’s delighted gasp and wondered what the earl thought of her query.
“Don’t you mean ... lovable?” Joshua replied, taking a bit of joy in teasing her.
“I rather like that I could be considered lovable,” Henry stated, daring to glance down at Hannah as he made the comment. She kept her eyes steady and forced herself not to look up at her husband, afraid if she did, she would have to agree that he was lovable and then say so in front of their guests. “Wainwright, does this mean that you are experiencing impending fatherhood?” Gisborn wondered lightly.
The Seduction of an Earl Page 33
