My Lord's Lady

by Sherrill Bodine

  “Thank you for your concern, but I shall look after the children myself.” Years of control could not be so easily abandoned. Expecting opposition, he glanced quickly toward Georgina, but she remained uncharacteristically silent. He unbent enough to grab a piece of toast from the sideboard. “I shall join you all at dinner and inform you of the children’s progress.”

  It was a promise he had every intention of keeping, but as the hours ticked by, even his iron will wasn’t proof against exhaustion. He’d brought a chair and propped it against the wall between the children’s rooms so he’d be within earshot. After the doctor’s visit and their breakfast, strangely enough, both had fallen back to sleep. After the third time he caught himself nodding off, he sought his own chamber.

  He carefully removed his whipcord chocolate jacket and unwound his neck cloth to place it carefully into his valet’s waiting hand. Then to Marlowe’s horror, he flung himself half-clothed across the bed. Too well-trained to do more than cluck with disapproval, the valet left Vane in peace, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Vane stretched and sighed, conscious of the responsibilities facing him. He would close his eyes for a few moments, no more.

  As exhaustion overtook his willpower, he found himself in the grips of a powerful dream: He wandered through a cold stone building, alone. Taunts and jibes echoed off the walls, which closed in around him, trapping him. There at the end of the hall stood a group of laughing, shouting boys. He was back at Eton, very small, very frightened, very much out of his element.

  The boys surrounded him suddenly, and they pulled his too-long flaming red curls, teasing him. In that circle of hostile faces, there wasn’t one spark of sympathy. He had no one to defend him, but himself. This was not the first time they had attacked him, or the tenth, or the fifteenth. But, of a sudden, he determined it would be the last!

  The feel of his fist against the first boy’s jaw sent a shock quivering through him. The crunch as his hand smashed into the second’s nose was terrifying. And a sense of power grew within as he successfully fought them off.

  They all ran then, and he ran, too, his breath gasping through his tight hot throat. He ran back through the hallways to his room, latched the door, and grabbed a glass to examine the bruises forming on his face. Badges of honor. He grabbed up a scissors, determined to cut off the hateful curls—but instead, he ran a comb through them, taming them somewhat and only trimmed them slightly.

  He shivered with cold and lifted his lids to blink into utter darkness. Taking a deep breath, he remembered where he was, who he was. What he had dreamed. That day, so long ago, he learned the truth of power—he never gave up his individuality. It was then he made his decision to be the best in everything so no one dare taunt him again. And he buried deep within the powerful emotions that had surged through him when taking revenge against his attackers.

  Painstakingly over the years, he had built an icy wall of aloofness. It had served him well. He shook his head to clear it. It still did.

  The connecting door to his dressing room creaked open. Marlowe stood in his night robe holding a lighted candle before him. “My lord, you are awake.”

  “Good God, Marlowe, what is the time?”

  “Midnight, my lord.”

  “Midnight! Why didn’t you wake me?” His roar of outrage sent his valet scurrying around the chamber, lighting a candelabra on the mantel and poking up the fire.

  “I would have done so, my lord, but the Duchess of Worthington forbade me.”

  Knowing just how forceful Tildie could be, Vane was somewhat mollified. He nodded coolly at his quivering manservant. “It’s done, Marlowe. I suppose Her Grace has also been attending the children.”

  His valet’s relief at the return of Vane’s habitual calmness was so enormous, he forgot himself and actually laughed. “Oh, I should say, my lord. The ladies have taken over the sickroom.”

  He should have seen through their demure acquiescence at breakfast, especially Georgina’s uncharacteristic silence. Now, he had no recourse but to accept their help with as much grace as possible.

  “Since the ladies have surely retired, I shall be in charge once again. Carry on as usual, Marlowe.”

  “Oh, but, my lord…”

  “That will be all!” Vane stalked from the room, still in dishabille.

  As they had last night, both children’s doors stood open to the dimly lit hall. Lawrence was sleeping peacefully, his skin cooler to Vane’s touch. He tiptoed into his daughter’s bedchamber and stopped as if he’d walked into an invisible wall.

  Georgina, her rich brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, was curled up in the rocking chair next to the bed. Her eyes were closed, the long dark lashes outlined against the cream of her cheek. He stood for a moment regarding her. Then he realized there was a slight chill in the room, as the fire had burned down to embers.

  The chair rocked her gently toward him as he tucked a quilted coverlet around her. She stirred, the coverlet slipping down to reveal her night robe had parted. The rules of his world dictated that he not awaken her. In truth, he should remove himself at once. But good manners and a sense of gratitude for her care of his children commanded he not allow her to sprawl uncovered in the chair.

  He tried again, kneeling before the chair. As he tucked the coverlet behind her, covering her transparent night rail, his face brushed her soft hair and he felt her sweet breath against his throat.

  His grip was all steel lined with velvet as he eased her back into the depths of the chair, away from his warmth. In sleep, her lips were slightly parted and full. He wondered how they would taste against his own.

  As he watched, her eyes fluttered open and her gaze met his.

  “Forry…” She said his name on a sigh.

  Desire burned hot coals low in his abdomen. Suddenly her sherry-washed eyes were full of awareness, and he knew she too felt the desire pulsing between them. She shivered, and shook her head slowly in denial.

  “Georgina.” Unwisely, he reached out to pull her into his arms, to taste those forbidden lips.

  “Mama, I … Oh!” Sabrina’s soft shriek brought them both to their senses.

  Georgina, holding his eyes, withdrew into the protection of her coverlet. He couldn’t seem to look away either. He jumped to his feet and backed across the room.

  Women had their place in his life, he had just moved his latest mistress out of the snug house in Bishop’s Woods; but, he had no intention, now or at any time in the future, of disrupting his ordered existence with falling in love.

  Gruffly he ordered Sabrina, “I am here now, so take your mother off to bed.”

  Pulling on the thick plait hanging over one shoulder, she glanced nervously in her mother’s direction, but still didn’t move from the doorway.

  “Lord Vane is right, Sabrina. Come, we shall return to our chambers.” She rose from the chair, her heavy hair curved across her cheek, hiding her face.

  In the dim light, he couldn’t make out the expression in her eyes. Without speaking, she gathered her daughter to her side and defiantly walked down the long hall away from him.

  He forced his breathing into its natural rhythm. A lifetime of control would not be lost in one moment of weakness, he decided as he paced the corridor outside his children’s rooms. He would conquer these feelings, whatever they were, just as he ordered everything else in his life, of that he had no doubts!

  Chapter 5

  The effort he took to stay out of Georgina’s way for the next three days was the distraction that caused him restless nights, he decided. His preoccupation was so great that he lost to Amesley at cards, something he rarely, if ever, did. Naturally, he blamed this on his excessive concern for his children.

  He had limited his contact with all the ladies to the most transitory, so as to not single out Georgina. It seemed to be inord
inately easy to accomplish. At one dinner Georgina begged to be excused due to a headache, and the next evening he had urgent business to attend to.

  Certainly he was not experiencing any difficulty dealing with his feelings. In fact, if they were all not forced to remain together in his house, he felt sure he would have already conquered—whatever it was that bothered him.

  It didn’t seem fair that the mere glimpse of her in Leticia’s room could conjure up the urge to taste the forbidden fruit of her mouth. But after the debacle of losing to Amesley, he seemed to be unable to focus on anything but these feelings she inspired.

  Usually he took what he wanted with cool detachment. In this case, that course of action was not possible. Although Georgina was a mature woman of his world, and he knew from personal experience her counterparts enjoyed liaisons wherever and with whomever they pleased, he sensed that she, for all her bold manner, was not of that ilk. In addition, she was Tildie’s beloved stepdaughter.

  But even more frightening to him was the loss of his carefully cultivated control. He even went so far, one night in his study, to list the difficulties a misalliance with her would create. For a few hours that exercise reassured him. But on his next glimpse of her, the list, the reasons, all went out of his head. He had not been this emotional since that fateful day at Eton when the cowardly Laurentian Wilburforce was re-created into the aloof Vane.

  Vane decided to generate another excuse to miss dinner this evening after the night before when the company dined practically in silence. It was so marked that even Sabrina attempted to break the tension by initiating a topic—the Elgin Marbles—which failed miserably when the others noticed a look that flashed between Georgina and himself. Just as he was about to declare insanity, he was interrupted in his library by Amesley.

  Amesley strolled in, without knocking, casually cupping two brandy snifters in his long fingers, attempting to control a monumental grin. “I’m to be the brave one who dares confront the lion in his den,” he quipped.

  Really this was too much! Lifting his brows, Vane forced his mouth into its habitual mockery and took the amber-filled crystal between two fingers. “What are you blathering on about?”

  “Vane, it’s as plain as the nose on your face that you and Georgina are avoiding one another. The intriguing question is why.” He settled his lean frame in the chair on the other side of the hearth as blithely as you please.

  “Don’t be absurd, Peter! It does you no credit.” Vane tossed the brandy down. Its burn was a refreshing reminder that the world still had some normalcy. He met his friend’s eyes. “I assure you it’s all in your imagination.”

  “Mine. And Tildie’s. And the little Sabrina’s as well.” He let that sink in while he fetched the decanter and poured another glass for Vane. “In any case, I know for a fact Georgina’s avoiding you. Told me so herself,” he declared with aplomb.

  Irrationally, that rankled. “How peculiar,” Vane returned more tersely than he’d intended. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Knew you hadn’t. You’ve been too busy doing the same!” Amesley’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Been friends since that day at Eton when you saved me, Forry. You have my ear if you need it.

  “What I obviously need is to better entertain my guests.” Downing this brandy he rose to his feet. “Come, let us find the ladies and plan a divertissement. Are they in the front parlour?”

  “Last I spied them, they were off to visit your children.”

  His lips almost curled into a rueful smile before he caught himself. What could be better than to confront the object of his torment than where it had begun in earnest!

  The children were bored. They’d been confined to the house for the better part of a week, and a certain restlessness was leading them to tease each other. Georgina, despite her determination to put him from her mind, was more amused than indignant over the fact Vane had so carefully avoided her. Truth be told, she didn’t want to see him either. And so she had told an inquisitive Amesley when he had remarked about his friend’s odd behavior.

  Of course, she had told no one, not even Tildie, the real reason she had not been herself since that night. Not even to herself did she wish to acknowledge the feelings that had burned through her blood in that moment they had swayed provocatively close. She had wished for his kiss as much as he had wanted to kiss her. It was deuced uncomfortable that they both were fully aware of it, and both fighting to pretend it had never happened.

  Suddenly the ridiculous specter of two mature adults acting like green youngsters tickled her sense of humor, and she burst into laughter.

  Leticia blinked up at her from the floor where she sat drawing designs on a sheet of parchment. “I’m so happy your eyes are smiling again.”

  Taking the child’s hands, Georgina swung them to and fro. “You’re right! We’ve been much too glum. I think we should do something truly delightful today, since you and Lawrence are so much better.”

  “What do you suggest, Georgina?” Tildie asked from the rocking chair where she mended linen just to have something to occupy her time.

  “Lawrence and Leticia must decide,” Georgina threw herself into the spirit of the moment, anything to take her mind off … “You must each decide what is your greatest wish right at this moment.”

  A wistful sigh escaped Leticia’s lips as she glanced out the window at the misty day. “I wish it was summer, and we could have a picnic. I love picnics ever so much. Father only lets us go on them in the country.”

  Her twin hesitated, still seeming a trifle uncertain of the merriment they had tried to introduce into the sickroom. Finally, he looked up at her. “I would enjoy playing a game of hide-and-seek,” he said slowly, as if the treat was beyond measure.

  “Oh yes, yes!” Leticia bounced up and down on the rug, her gold-red curls flying. “A picnic and a game of hide-and-seek!”

  “Then, so it shall be!” Georgina declared, standing and flicking out the folds of her favorite willow green satin day dress. “Follow me.”

  Laughing, Sabrina caught Leticia’s hand and helped her from the floor.

  “Lawrence, escort me please,” Tildie demanded, and immediately he presented his curved arm.

  They made a great processional down the front stairs, Sabrina making a mock trumpet with her hands and tooting, albeit softly. Foweley came into the front hall wide-eyed. He appeared shaken by her demands, but even he was not proof against the children’s gasps of pleasure as they heard what she requested.

  “At once, my lady!” he assured her, twirling on his heel to do her bidding.

  By the time they arrived in the vast ballroom, two maids and three footmen were moving the heavy carved chairs against the walls and spreading a veritable mountain of coverlets and pillows upon the highly polished wooden floor. Another footmen built up a roaring fire in the enormous fireplaces at either end of the room.

  Sabrina had retreated to her room and came now bearing hats or scarves for each to choose, “as protection from the blazing sun.”

  For some reason that pronouncement sent Lawrence into gales of laughter. Once they were all settled comfortably, a picnic was spread out before them. Vane’s excellent French chef had outdone himself to create the fantasy. There was cold roast fowl, slabs of crusty bread, two kinds of cheese, the children’s favorite shortbread, ripe red apples, and lemonade.

  While they ate, Sabrina and Tildie took turns roasting the children with fantastic tales of picnics they had attended.

  “That was ever so delicious,” Leticia cooed, snuggling closer to Sabrina, when she was finished.

  “Now can we … play?” Lawrence asked with a tentative smile.

  “Of course we can!” Georgina declared, pushing to her feet. “Would you like to begin, Lawrence?”

  Would his father’s eyes blaze so brightly if he ever smiled like this, Georgin
a wondered absently. Refusing to concentrate on such an absurdity, she ruffled the boy’s silky hair.

  “The rules are: there are no rules! Everyone has to stay in this room, though, agreed? Now we shall all hide as you count very slowly to twenty.”

  Vane had counted on having his confrontation with her now and getting it over with. But the ladies were nowhere to be found, not in the morning room, or the children’s rooms. He could feel his tension building, but attempted to remain very blasé as he observed.

  “It appears the ladies have unwisely allowed the children to leave their rooms.”

  Amesley flicked him an uneasy glance. “I’m sure there was a good reason.”

  Not deigning to answer, Vane spun away. It was one matter for Georgina to throw his thoughts into chaos, but it was quite another for her to upset the well-ordered routine of his home and family!

  Laughter, childish and other echoed from the third floor. Without consideration he thundered down the hall and took the stairs two at a time. He flung open the wide double doors of the ballroom, and to his surprise Sabrina spun past him, tripping prettily into Amesley’s waiting arms.

  “Oh.” In a flash she appeared to conquer her shyness to meet Amesley’s startled eyes. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”

  Incredibly, the rakish Amesley blushed, but recovered quickly to ask, “What delights have we interrupted?”

  “We are playing hide-and-seek with the children,” she replied simply.

  Vane stood for a few moments, stiff with shock as his gaze took in the muddle in the middle of the ballroom, including the remains of their sumptuous spread. A thundering wave of anger washed over him as his son, wearing his night robe and slippers, crawled out from beneath a long trestle table at one end of the room. A moment later his sister, likewise dressed, followed him. Their faces were healthy and happy, but he managed to dismiss that thought at once.

  “What is the meaning of this?” His roar caused the crystal drops on the chandelier to quiver; even the flames in the hearth appeared to cower.