She laughed. “Henry, I have two girls of my own.”
He tapped his chin. “Yes. True, that. Then I will adopt them.”
She shook her head, loving him more each day. He was funny, caring, a bit eccentric, and all hers. “If it were my money, I would give it up in a minute, but I cannot deprive my daughters of what is rightfully theirs for my own benefit.”
Henry pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on her head. “I know. I wouldn’t want it any other way, either.” Before she guessed what he was about, he shifted and cupped her face. He lowered his head and kissed her. Lightly at first, then with more passion then she would have preferred, given their surroundings.
“Come home with me.” He scattered kisses on her eyelids, her nose, her chin, and back to her lips.
Even though it hadn’t been that long, she felt as though it had been forever since he’d held her in his arms. The familiar scent of bergamot that always surrounded him drifted to her nose, tightening the muscles in her lower belly. She grew damp and warm, and pressed her lower parts against his thigh that somehow had found its way between her legs.
She pulled away, taking gulps of air. “Henry, we must stop this. If anyone should walk by…”
“I agree.” He ran his fingers through his hair and reached out and took her hand. “Come home with me. How did you arrive?”
“Lady Penrose was gracious enough to lend me her carriage, but I sent the driver home once I arrived since she needed it. I knew one of the girls would see me home.”
“I will always see you home.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “You must know that.” His eyes studied every part of her face, as if he was seeing her for the first time.
Selina laughed to break the tension. “I’m not sure of that. I have a feeling if I stepped into your carriage, your driver would only remember where your home is.”
“Good idea. Let’s go to my house and have a drink.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “I have a bottle of the best French brandy the smugglers could sell.”
She pulled back. “Smugglers? You didn’t!”
“Do you not see how low I have sunk? When you ran my household, there was never French brandy. Now I am inundated with all manner of illegal things.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Such as?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved her forward. “I am afraid you will have to see for yourself. ’Tis a short ride to Pomeroy House. It won’t take much time at all.”
Her mind screamed Don’t go, but her body and her heart shouted their approval. While she continued to wrestle with her conflicting feelings, Henry had requested his carriage be brought around, and soon they were making their way down the stairs.
Once they were settled and Henry tapped on the roof to alert the driver they were ready to go, she said, “Perhaps you should ask the driver to go directly to Lady Penrose’s house. I am not sure this is a good idea.”
“Oh, my dear. I’m afraid this driver doesn’t know London all that well. He would never find his way to anywhere but home. Once we arrive at my house, I can have this driver look for the footman who knows the other driver who might know how to find Lady Penrose.”
“Indeed?” She couldn’t help but smile at his nonsense.
“Yes. And since it will take some time to rouse the other driver—who usually retires quite early with his own bottle of spirits—you might as well have a little bit of the French brandy.”
“I love you, Henry.”
He reached across the space and pulled her onto his lap. “Why don’t you move back—”
“Don’t ruin the moment.” She leaned forward and placed her lips on his.
Chapter 10
Henry poured a glass of brandy for himself, and at her request, a sherry for Selina. He walked across the library and handed her the glass.
He took the seat alongside her and rested his arm on the back of the settee. He felt at peace for the first time since she’d packed up and left.
Selina took a sip of her drink and placed the glass on the low table in front of them. She turned toward Henry and took his hands in hers. “There is something I feel we must speak about.”
“Yes. You may move back in anytime.”
She smiled but placed her finger against his lips. “No, Henry. This is a serious matter.”
“What is it, my love?”
“I know I told you how Crampton moved us to the country because he wanted an heir.”
Henry nodded.
“He told me the reason for that was he didn’t trust me. He questioned me after every ball about each man I danced with, spoke with, drank a lemonade with. You know how things are at these events. Most husbands escape to the card room immediately upon arrival and the women dance and gossip. I love to dance, and I imagine it shows on my face, so I was asked to stand up quite frequently.” She took another sip of sherry.
A small niggle of guilt began to grow in his stomach. He had been a bit possessive and overbearing of late. “Go on.”
“That same feeling of irritation at being condemned for something I had no intention of ever doing returned again tonight.”
When he opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head. “You have never questioned me before as much as you have since our separation. I will not tolerate the same sort of husband Crampton was. I am an honorable woman. I would never forsake my vows, which is precisely why I feel fighting these rumors about me looking for a new man to warm my bed is so terribly unfair.” Another sip. “I realize we are not married, but please understand I will never again marry someone who feels I cannot be trusted around other men.”
Henry’s heart stuttered and then sunk into his belly. Selina was right. He had never behaved in such a manner before. Did he actually believe the rumors? Of course not. He knew Selina better than any woman in his life. Including his deceased wife. He and Selina had a very strong relationship.
He’d been a cad.
“You are correct, my dear. I have been somewhat accusatory, and for that I apologize. I know the type of person you are. I have faith in you and your behavior.” He ran his finger down her soft cheek. “Will you forgive me?”
“You must mean it, Henry. As much as I love you, I will never consider marriage if I feel watched.” She waved her finger at him. “And don’t try to tell me I’ve changed since I removed myself to Lady Penrose’s home.”
“No. You have not changed. And whatever little bit of insecurity I’ve been feeling will have to be conquered.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “Now that we have settled that issue, perhaps you can think of a way we can celebrate our understanding?”
The look in her eyes had his body humming. He downed the last of his brandy, stood, and held out his hand. “I have a number of methods to celebrate.” He nodded at her hand. “Finish your drink, my lady.”
Her eyes never left his as she swallowed the last of the liquid and took his hand. They made their way upstairs to his bedchamber. Since they oftentimes shared the same bed all night before one of them returned to their own room before daylight, his bed had seemed cold and impersonal since Selina had left. Having her here in his room made everything seem right again. Finished. Complete.
Like a long-time married couple, they undressed each other with ease, Henry kissing her soft skin as each fastener opened. He took her hairpins out, one by one, dropping them on the small china dish next to her side of the bed. He closed his eyes as he nuzzled her neck, the light scent of something flowery teasing his senses.
Their clothes piled on the floor, Henry eased Selina down onto the bed, covering her body with his. He wanted very much to take his time, but her absence made that quite difficult. Because of his age, he couldn’t look forward to more than one ‘event’ per evening, so this needed to be good.
He used all of his control to think of other things while he kissed her and touched, licked, and fondled all the parts of her body he knew gave her ple
asure. “I am sorry, my love, but quite anxious to feel your moist warmth when we join.”
She looked into his eyes and smoothed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I’m ready, Henry. Take me.”
“Ah, my love.” He slid easily into her moistness. Passion was so much more when lovers were past the first bloom of youth. The familiar comfort of her body, the well-known sounds she made when he moved, the way her breathing increased when he knew she was close to climax. The strength of her legs as she wrapped them around his waist, her heels pressing into his buttocks.
He took her mouth in a searing kiss, sweeping her mouth with his tongue, touching all the places he knew set her on fire. She responded in kind as he moved faster, eager and at the same time, reluctant to bring it all to completion.
With one final thrust, he poured himself into her at the same time her muscles tightened and contracted around his cock, milking him, taking his very essence into her body.
Selina felt as though all her bones had melted. Henry pushed himself off her and collapsed, panting as though he’d run a race. The sound of their heavy breathing and the scent of their sex filled the air. All she wanted to do at that point was curl up alongside Henry as they’d done for years and sleep.
But everything had changed. She had her daughters to think about. Her reputation affected their reputation. Not that other widows, and even married women of the ton, were not visiting various beds, but they did not live under the dictates of a monster of a deceased husband. It was as if he monitored her behavior from the grave.
She sighed and sat up. Henry gripped her elbow. “Don’t leave.”
“I have to. I will be fortunate if no one has seen me enter or will see me leave.”
Henry rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand. “Why? So many widows, in fact I would not be remiss in saying most widows, take lovers. I don’t see them being held up to criticism. It is quite accepted.”
“And they most likely do not have a man watching them from the grave. And, they are somewhat discreet. If I were to move back in here, discretion flies out the window. Remember, any sort of behavior is tolerated by Society as long it can be ignored. Except for young girls, of course.” She stood and began to separate the garments in the pile by the bed into her clothing and Henry’s clothing. “I have every reason to believe Crampton—not the dead one—is attempting to slander my reputation for nefarious purposes. Most likely having to do with money.”
“I agree.”
Selina rested one knee on the bed and regarded him. “That is why we have to be careful.”
Henry sat up and twirled his finger in the air, and Selina turned around, holding her stays up while he fastened them in the back. So much of that they shared together was comforting. She felt much more married to Henry than she ever had with Crampton. While Henry was loving and tender, Crampton had been cold and unlikeable. Henry cared about her and her feelings; Crampton had stomped all over hers.
Henry had a distinct love for his daughters—even, to some degree, hers as well—where Crampton had ignored Phoebe and Prudence most of their lives. And now that hateful man was keeping her from having the love and fulfilling marriage that she and Henry could have.
“Stop thinking, Selina.” Having finished lacing her up, Henry turned her and pulled her down to the bed. “We will work this out. I don’t know how, but I do know I cannot wait years to make you my wife.”
She patted his cheek. “If only, Henry. If only.”
* * *
The next afternoon, Selina stood at the front door entrance and pulled on her gloves as she waited for Phoebe and Prudence to join her. They were headed to Lady Millerton’s home for afternoon tea. A few outings such as this were good for the girls.
As she watched them descend the stairs, she couldn’t help but think how young they were. At sixteen, they were still little girls to her. But in two months they would reach their seventeenth year and, according to Society, they were ready for the marriage mart. She shook her head. Look what being a young bride had done for her.
However, she would marry Crampton all over again in order to have the wonderful, lovely girls who made their way downstairs, followed by Miss Fletcher. “Girls, you look beautiful!” Were she a man, her chest would be puffed up.
“Thank you, Mama.” They both spoke at the same time, looked at each other, and burst into giggles.
“Now, girls. Do remember not to giggle when out in Society. I don’t think you should adopt the bored mien so many of the young ladies do so they fit in, but just be your wonderful, lively selves and you will do just fine.” She nodded to the butler at the door. “We are ready.”
“Will there be any gentlemen there?” Prudence wanted to know.
“Yes. I am sure of it. There generally are, usually those among the group who are searching for wives this Season.” As they settled into the seats, she gave them a quelling look. “You are both much too young to be thinking along those lines.”
“But Mama,” Phoebe said as she adjusted her skirts, “I thought the idea of a Season was to look for a husband. And it’s only several months before our come-out.”
Selina shook her head. “No, my dearest. You are only sixteen. Barely out of the schoolroom. Besides, you don’t want to rush into marriage. You may find that no one appeals to you in that manner. Having more than one Season is not alarming, you know.”
“Well, everyone will say we’re on the shelf,” Prudence said.
“No. You will not be on the shelf after one year. Please don’t rush into anything. Marriage is for the rest of your life. You want to make sure it is to the right man.”
“Papa wasn’t the right man for you, was he, Mama?” Phoebe’s soft words hurt her heart. She hated that her girls knew how unhappy she’d been when Crampton had been alive.
“No. I am sorry to say, it was not a good match.” She tried to keep the sadness out of her voice, if only because the man was the girls’ father.
“Yet you married your first Season.” Rather than being accusatory, Prudence’s words were more curious.
“Yes. But I had no choice. Your grandfather arranged the match with Lord Crampton, and he wanted a short betrothal.”
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Phoebe patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Mama.” Then she brightened. “But you have Lord Pomeroy.” Then she sat back and frowned. “Why don’t you marry him?”
Chapter 11
Lord Crampton studied the old viscount’s twin girls drinking tea with their mother at the Millertons’ tea party. He was bored beyond belief and bloody annoyed at the young chits who kept batting their eyelashes at him and dropping their handkerchiefs in front of him.
Every girl was looking for a title, and even though he was almost an unknown among the upper crust, the mere idea that a young viscount was in their midst and unmarried was enough to drive the marriage-minded mamas hysterical with glee. He sighed. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Crampton’s money and hie it back to Greece.
He knew as a viscount, he must secure his title and marry one of these giggling, blushing, annoying creatures, but not for a few more years. Then he would get her with child, banish her to the country, and go about his life as he wished. With any luck, the woman he ended up leg-shackled to would not be too hard to look at so he could do the deed without all the candles extinguished.
Crampton’s daughters did not seem to be as annoying as the other chits at the gathering. They spoke softly, didn’t bat their eyelashes, and even their blushes were not irritating.
Lady Bellamy approached with her daughter in tow. The girl was unfortunately cursed with a rather large nose and a missing chin. However, he bowed in their direction and prepared himself to hold onto a pleasant smile while the mother raved about the girl’s accomplishments while the young gal stared at her feet and appeared to be wishing herself on the other side of the earth.
His mind immediately began to wander to his meeting the day before with C
rampton’s solicitor. Even though he’d presented the man with various streams of gossip about Lady Crampton’s behavior, the ninnyhammer was unimpressed and told him in no uncertain terms that if he applied to the courts for guardianship of the girls, he would most assuredly lose.
It appeared his alternate plan would be the next step. When he realized the stream of conversation had ended, he glanced at Lady Bellamy who regarded him expectantly. Bloody hell, she must have asked him a question.
“I am sorry, my lady, but I’m afraid I missed that.”
She tittered. Actually tittered! “That is quite all right, my lord. I just asked if you would be so kind as to join us for tea one afternoon.”
Tea? If he drank any more tea he would float back to Greece. “I would be delighted.”
Mother beamed, daughter blushed so red Crampton was afraid she would set her hair on fire. He bowed in their direction. “If you will excuse me, madam, I believe I am wanted across the room.”
He hurried past other mamas who tried to stop him and made his way to Lady Crampton and the twin girls. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
“My lord.” Lady Crampton’s greeting, while not exactly warm, was at least polite.
He beamed at the girls. “I am quite pleased to see you once again.” He turned toward Lady Crampton. “In your mother’s company, of course.”
She eyed him carefully, no doubt Pomeroy’s threat to leave the girls alone fresh in her mind. Unlike Pomeroy, she would not make a scene at a party, however. Too well-mannered.
He tilted his head to study them. “I must admit to having a difficult time telling you apart.”
Lady Crampton touched the girl closest to her on the arm. “This is Lady Prudence, and her sister Lady Phoebe.”
The girls made a delightful, perfect curtsy and smiled brightly. He mentally rubbed his hands together. Yes, this was a very good plan.
For the Love of the Lady Page 7
