B005R3LZ90 EBOK (18 page)

"Miss P.," Georgette corrected.

Sally directed her gaze at George. "Miss Primble has instructed the children to call her Miss P. It's a great deal easier to pronounce, especially for Sam—when he starts talking."

Georgette bounced from her father's side of the carriage to Sally's and poked her face into her brother's while proceeding to speak in baby talk, "Would you like a baby horse, Sam?"

His thumb still in his mouth, Sam nodded, his wide eyes shifting to his father.

A grin eased across George's face. "Very well, we shall get a pony."

A short time later, Sam buried his little face into Sally's small bosom and went to sleep. She continued to stroke his hair even as it grew moist. She did not think she could ever grow tired of holding him in her arms. A pity he was soon to outgrow wanting to be in her arms.

She smiled as she watched Georgette climb upon her father's lap, and she experienced a deep contentment so vast she clung to a foolish wish that this journey could last forever. For she had not been this happy since the day she married.

She was as proud of George this moment as she had been when he had begged her hand in marriage. Yes, he had been immature. He had also been selfish. Yet she completely understood. Coming to Bath and engaging in the kinds of activities he had pursued there had been part of his healing process. Hopefully, he was now healed and could regain a productive life.

* * *

Betsy Johnson was not finished with Lord Sedgewick and the upstart he had married. No, not by a long shot. She had vowed that he would pay for his mistreatment of her, and, by God, he was going to pay.

When Ebinezer had informed her that Sedgewick had returned to Warwickshire, she had bleated a string of curses and raced back to her house without so much as giving Ebinezer what he surely deemed his payment should be.

But the following night she had her plan in place. She waited until her parents had gone to bed, then padded down the stairs and slipped out the tradesmen's entrance at the back of the house. She went straight to the mews and climbed the now familiar wooden staircase.

This time Ebinezer, a broad smile on his rugged face, was waiting for her. "Aye, me gal, I'd knew as ye'd come tonight."

She set the lantern down, then, like an actress performing on a stage, she began to shed her fur-trimmed velvet cloak.

Ebinezer gasped as it fell to the wooden floor. For she wore nothing beneath it. She dipped down to remove her cloak from the floor, careful to give him a good view of her breasts dangling downward as she bent. Then she covered the uncomfortable straw mattress with her velvet cloak and lay on it.

These stolen meetings with Ebinezer were growing tedious. The first one had been the best, of course. It always was. She had been eyeing Ebinezer for several weeks and had been anxious to learn if his considerable height was an indication of his size below the waist. She had no complaints on that score. He filled her well, the lad did. But she was growing weary of him. And of the straw mattress.

Perhaps if Ebinezer were to sneak into her chamber in her father's house . . . The idea brought a smile to her lips and sent a throbbing down deep and low. She did so love the danger of discovery, the danger of forbidden fruit. That's what was needed. She would entice Ebinezer to her bedchamber. She thought she would even fancy the idea of him groaning loudly with pleasure beside her. That might just heighten the lure of discovery. Not that she actually wished to be found with the groom's member inserted within her. She merely wanted to imagine being discovered with the groom's—or the footman's or the coachman's—member buried within her.

Just thinking on the matter caused her to become aroused. She slipped her hand beneath Ebinezer's nightshirt to see if he was, too.

Good. "I shall be on top tonight," she informed him, rolling over on him and closing her opened mouth over his.

He came into her quick and hard, just as she had taught him to do. But she still wasn't satisfied. She rolled off him and waited for his breathing to return to normal. Then she began to pleasure him with her mouth until he grew sturdy again and she sat astride him once more and rode him as if her very life depended upon it.

This time they both cried out in ragged moans of pleasure.

When she woke just before dawn, she whispered filthy things into his ear until he awakened.

"Next time, me boy, you'll pleasure me in me own bed."

"I can't be goin' and doin' that now, miss. What about yer parents?"

She rolled to him and lifted one thigh over his leg. "It will just make it more exciting, love."

He clasped a wide hand over her bare hips.

"Ye must make love to me once more, Ebinezer, before ye go off to Warwickshire."

He bolted up. "Are ye daft? I ain't goin' to Warwickshire."

"Aye, love, ye are. 'Twill only be for a little while, and I'll see to it me father increases yer wages when ye return." It wasn't uncommon for Betsy to begin slipping into the lower classes' vernacular when she was having one of her affairs with an underling.

They went at it once more, and by the time she slipped away from the mews at dawn, Ebinezer was making plans for his trip to Warwickshire.

Chapter 17

As they drew closer to George's ancestral home, a smile settled on Sally's face. Hornsby Manor had been her favorite place on earth when she was growing up. In addition to her infatuation with George and her idolization of Glee's elder sister, Sally had loved the rolling Warwickshire countryside here. The vast Sedgewick estates were so completely different from the rectory where she had grown up.

 She fondly recalled rowing across the deep green waters of Hornsby's private lake and the many long horseback rides she and Glee had taken around the estate. Hornsby was the largest house Sally had ever been in until Felicity married the wealthy Mr. Moreland and settled in at Winston Hall. Though unlike Winston Hall with its rooms of marble and miles of gilt trim, Hornsby was rich with mellowed wood and was as cozy as her grandmother's fire lit cottage.

When the carriage rattled over the familiar wooden bridge, Sally's heart fluttered. They had crossed into Sedgewick property. Her chest seemed too small to contain her swelling heart. She peered from the window at the parkland in front of Hornsby, and her eye traveled along the velvety grass up to Hornsby itself. Neither palatial nor pretentious, Hornsby was a big, comfortable family home in the Tudor style with as much timber on the facade as bricks and mortar. Her heart clenched. It would now be her home.

As the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the door, Sally's glance fell on George. Not waiting for the coachman to put down the steps, he sprang from the carriage and turned back to assist Sally, who held Sam in her arms as she disembarked. Then George dipped down and scooped Georgette into his arms.

"You must be fatigued from the journey," he said to Sally as they entered the house through Hornsby's front door. "No doubt you'll want to go to your chambers."

Her pulse accelerated. "Not until they have been redecorated, I think. Until then, I plan to stay in Sam's room with him. I daresay the new house could possibly upset him."

As if to assure himself of the lad's well-being, George threw a quick glance at his son. "Then allow me to show you to the young master's room."

Sally shook her head. "No, first we must take Georgette to her chamber. You know nothing of your daughter if you do not know how impatient she is to see her well remembered room."

Still holding his daughter, George looked down into her face. "So you're impatient to see your chamber, love?"

"Ever so much, Papa."

The family's bedchambers were all located upon the second floor, Georgette's midway down the dark corridor. As George went to open its door, Sally grew anxious. What if the servants had not prepared it for the young mistress? After all, they had not been notified until yesterday that the family was returning today.

She was relieved when they entered the chamber and found that it was free of dust, tidy, and quite lovely with its wallpaper of lilacs. Draperies of a solid lilac color had been opened to flood the chamber with sunlight. Sally glanced at the half-tester bed, which also was covered in velvet that was of the same shade of lilac as the draperies.

"Is it as you remembered, pet?" George asked his daughter.

Her glance lit on every corner of the room, then she looked up at her father and shrugged. "It's . . . it's the same, but it's different. It seems smaller."

"That's because you've grown bigger," George said gently.

"Then, too," Sally added, "none of your dolls and things are here yet. It will look more as you remember when your things get here."

Georgette's glance darted to the unadorned little bed in the corner of the room. "I remember that's where Hortense used to sleep."

Sally went to put Sam down, but he clung to her neck and gave a grumble of protest. "Very well, sweetheart," she cooed to him, "I shan't put you down if you don't like."

George gazed from Sally to Sam and back to Sally. "Should you care to see what will be Sam's room?"

"Certainly," Sally said as she followed her husband from the room. "Has anyone occupied it since you married, my lord?"

He walked directly across the hall to it, shaking his head. "What if it's not been made ready?" Sally asked.

"It will be. That was in my instructions." He opened the door and swept into the blue chamber.

Though it had been cleaned, and fresh linens had been put on the bed, the room's long years of disuse were evident in the sun-faded draperies. Sally thought the draperies and bed coverings once must have been a royal blue to complement the gold walls. But now the royal blue was so badly faded it looked almost as if it had been whitewashed. Her glance traveled to the wooden floors that were covered in worn, though serviceable, Turkey carpets. Sally attempted to calculate how long it had been since the chamber had been redecorated. George had married when he was three and twenty, so it had been seven years since he had occupied this chamber. Judging by what she saw, Sally would guess the room must have been decorated when George was the age Sam was now.

She directed her gaze at her husband. "I believe there are two rooms that will require redecorating."

He nodded. "I hadn't realized this chamber would look so . . . so tawdry."

She laughed. "I wouldn't say tawdry. It's most likely been thirty years since it was decorated."

"I daresay you're correct," George said.

Georgette came to stand at Sally's feet and looked up at her little brother. "This is going to be your room, Sam," she said sweetly.

He held Sally's neck tighter. She was not sure if he understood or not. "Mama's going to sleep in here with you tonight, sweetheart." Sally kissed his fat little cheek.

Then Sally met Georgette's gaze and smiled smugly. "I suspect you're ready to go find your pup."

A broad smile on her face, Georgette's head bobbed up and down.

George picked her up again. "Remember what I told you. He's not a puppy any more. He's going to be rather large."

They went back downstairs and through the rear door and began to walk through the parterre garden toward the mews. They had not been outside for long when they heard a bark and saw a black dog running toward them. If that were Georgette's dog, Sally thought, then her father had been right. He was a large dog, as large as a collie.

"It's Blackie!" Georgette cried, running toward the dog.

"George? Will she be all right, do you think?"

Worry flashed across his face, and George began to sprint after his daughter.

But he had no need to worry. The harmless dog stopped right in front of Georgette and began to lick her.

She giggled and flicked a glance at her father. "He remembers me!"

"I believe he does, pet."

Dropping to her knees, Georgette flung her arms around the dog. Then she gazed up at her brother and said, "Doggie. Do you want to pet the doggie, Sam?"

He shook his head. Though fascinated by the dog and unable to remove his gaze from it, Sam was frightened just enough to keep a safe distance.

Assured of his daughter's safety, George began to stroll toward the mews, his wife and son beside him and Georgette and her dog lagging some distance behind.

Sliding a glance to Sally, George came to a stop. "Here, let me take him. Your arms must be aching."

To Sally's surprise, Sam did not protest but went readily to his father. Sally slipped her arm through George's free arm. "Do you know what Sam would love ever so much?" she asked.

George hitched a brow. "What?"

For you take him for a ride upon your mount.

"But I have no horse for you."

"I don't require one. I can watch you."

"You don't mind?"

"I shall be most happy if Sam is happy."

Within five minutes, George's bay was saddled, and Sally handed Sam up into his father's arms. A fleeting look of terror wiped across Sam's face as he clutched at his father, but as George's arm came around him and George spoke gently to him when the bay began a slow trot, the look of terror was replaced with unquestionable mirth.

Sally had never seen Sam so happy.

Once assured that Sam was no longer frightened, George dug in his heels, and the bay bolted into a gallop. Happiness on her own face, Sally watched as they streaked forward, the wind blowing Sam's blond curls, his giggling face lifted into the heavens.

Having suddenly lost interest in her dog, a solemn Georgette asked, "Can Papa take me, too?"

Sally gathered the little girl's hand into her own. "I'm sure he means to."

When George circled back to where Sally and Georgette stood, Georgette shouted. "Can you take me now, Papa?"

"Very well," he said. "Will you get Sam?" he asked Sally.

She walked up, arms outstretched.

Sam whirled his face away and grunted his disapproval, but his father was stern. He grabbed the boy with both hands and handed him, kicking and screaming, to Sally. "Be a good lad," George said, "and we'll do this again. It's Georgette's turn now."