Christmas Delights (20 page)

After blowing a kiss to Penelope, she went to Lewis’s room. While he might be in the stables, she hoped, only two days after his ordeal and especially because it was pouring rain, that he’d had the sense to remain indoors. Indeed, Eddy opened the door when she knocked and ushered her inside.

Lewis had his hands on his hips, pushing his red velvet smoking jacket away from his body. He stood staring at his bed, which was covered with drawings, a frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. As she watched, he poked at one of the drawings with a fingernail and muttered something under his breath.

“He’s trying to decide if a design flaw caused the leak, or if it’s an execution issue,” Eddy reported.

“Are you speaking Greek?” Victoria asked.

Eddy grinned. “No, milady. I hates book learnin’.”

“I was never very fond of it myself. Many a time I was supposed to be learning mathematics and read novels instead. My father couldn’t make an accountant of me.”

“Hence his insistence on marrying you off to some fop or nobleman?” Lewis interjected in an acid tone.

“He wants to marry me off to someone with intelligence or position. If the man has position, then he will know the best managers to hire to run things.”

Lewis turned to her and snorted. “Do you have any idea how many noblemen are idiots? Inbred, you know. The ones who inherit titles hire their less-fortunate siblings to manage their estates and such, or gamble them away, or make other poor decisions.”

“They aren’t all like that.”

He sniffed. “No, I’m sure your late husband was a paragon.”

Frustration overtook common sense. “Lewis, can’t you let this submarine project go? It’s already nearly killed you once.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Couldn’t you take a break? Penelope is so broken right now. I really do think it would give her so much pleasure to receive one of your famous birds. I would love a white stork for obvious reasons, but really, anything would work. Especially now because she’s gotten herself so cold. I’m afraid she’s going to have to stay in bed for the rest of the house party.” She put her hands together, imploring him.

“What did she do?” Eddy demanded.

“She went back to the wishing well, alone, early this morning, then climbed that hill nearby and sat on the bench in the wind for hours.”

“Why’d she do that?” the boy asked.

“She was hoping the birds would return.”

“In the dead of winter?”

Victoria nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“She must be as mad as a hatter,” Eddy gasped.

“Do not.” Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. “She’s just a little girl.”

“I mean no offense, milady. I’m sorry. Should I go see her?”

“Not until you can be much more sensitive with your language.”

Eddy’s smile faded. “Of course, milady. I am sorry.” He whirled around and pulled open the door, then vanished into the hallway.

Victoria sighed. “It has been a trying morning.”

When she turned, she caught Lewis staring at her. His intense gaze burnished her skin, licking heat up her legs and down her breasts. She swallowed hard and put her hand to her chest. Had she laced her stays too tightly when she’d changed? How hot was it in here?

“There won’t be any birds,” Lewis said, his voice gravelly.

The rough tone seemed to work on her like stone, abrading her senses. Her nipples peaked and she felt moisture between her thighs. What was he doing to her? She couldn’t think of anything but him, and the longing she felt to be back in his arms.

“Please,” she implored, forgetting what she wanted from him.

He moved away from the bed and passed her. She smelled rich leather and sharp bay on his skin, plus a faint touch of wood smoke. He went to the door and locked it. The snick of the key had an air of finality.

“Come here.” He reached out his hand behind him, not glancing back.

Fingers trembling, in his thrall, she obeyed, ignoring the shock of pain on her abraded palm when it met his. His rough fingers slid along the soft flesh of her arm and he pulled her to him until she was up against the door. He sank to his knees and gathered her skirt, then her petticoats, and disappeared beneath them.

“I have to taste you,” he said on a low moan.

She felt his arms pushing her legs apart. Her body shook hard. Struggling to remain upright, she tipped her head back against the door. Pins dug into her scalp as the skin of her throat tightened.

He had her legs spread now, his fingers ripping up the slit in her drawers, opening them, exposing her to his dark desires. She shuddered when she felt his breath against her newly exposed thigh, then on the wiry curls over her womanhood.

His blunt, clever fingers spread her completely open to him. Despite all her clothing, she could smell the sweet musk of her own arousal. When he licked—long, raspy, and wet—all along her most private place, her knees all but buckled. She keened, gasped, implored, then grasped her skirts in her arms and held them against her chest so he could use those clever hands for something else.

And oh, but he did, his fingers whispering along her thighs as he licked her from one round of pleasure to the next, thrusting his tongue into her channel, swirling it around her pearl, sucking, blowing, biting. She remembered he had planned to experiment on her. That conversation seemed an age ago.

She breathed so hard, she could hear a gale in her ears. Wanting to see him, she opened her eyes, was caught by the image of a ghostly woman in a mirror across the room. A man was between her legs, his head bobbing. The woman had her mouth open. Her eyes were dark pools of lust. She panted, her chest moving rapidly with every motion of the man. She could see his darker hands against her pale thighs, the red jacket against her white drawers.

He sucked her pearl hard, thrusting fingers inside her, and she fell apart. Her eyelids drooped, her fulfillment giving a light show as she cried out, her entire body quivering through a maelstrom of pleasure. When her legs could hold her no more, she sagged to the floor, her skirts falling around her waist.

Lewis brought his mouth, that clever mouth, to her ear and suckled her soft lobe. She could smell herself on his skin, his breath, his fingers when he pulled them from her channel and put them to her lips.

“That’s the taste I can never forget, Victoria. Your sweet honey. I will remember it every day of my life.”

She blinked, almost overcome by the tenderness in his voice. But he didn’t want her, not really. He, at least, realized this was only lust. She was a fool to love him. Sniffing hard couldn’t prevent tears from welling up in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks.

“I’ve made a mistake.” She struggled to her feet, dropping her skirts. Somehow her knee hit Lewis and he overbalanced, landing on his backside, staring up at her with surprise.

She pointed her finger at him, as if to scold, but her entire body still shook from the force of her climax.

“Victoria.”

“We have to stop this.”

“You came to me,” he said quietly.

She wanted him inside her. “For a bird, Lewis. A bird. I wanted Penelope to have a bird. That was all.” She waved her hands over her midsection, then wiped her face. “Not this.”

“You were a willing participant while it lasted.”

“Oh, and do you expect reciprocity now?” she shouted. “Do you want me on my knees?”

“I’m surprised a gently reared lady would think of such a thing,” he said in a stiff voice, before pushing himself into a standing position.

“My passion for you has tormented me with every naughty thought that can be imagined. Every way to touch your body, every way you might touch mine.” She waved her hands again. “Oh, I might not know quite what to do, what might be most pleasing, but I assure you, sir, I’ve had at least rudimentary thoughts on every brand of pleasure possible.”

He didn’t speak.

“All I want is a bird for my cousin. You know what she’s suffered. If you won’t marry me and enjoy my body for the rest of our lives, the least you can do is spend a day crafting her a bloody bird, instead of killing yourself in that damnable submarine!” She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. After stamping out, she slammed it closed, then stalked back down the corridor to her room.

With her hand on the knob, she stopped. She couldn’t go inside, not so disheveled and smelling of sexual pleasure. Not with Penelope in bed. Cursing herself for every kind of fool, she went to Lady Rowena’s quarters. At least the girl wasn’t naïve, not after catching herself Ernest Dickondell.

Lewis went to the stables on Saturday, resolved to return to the submarine project. He shared his insights concerning the leak, leaning over his blueprints with the earl, and they went to work, fixing the design of metal plating on the hull, only eating cold sandwiches for lunch. By two
P.M.
, thanks to the inadequate food and damp conditions, Lewis’s cough had returned and the earl insisted he return to the Fort.

He felt a tremor under his feet as he went up the hill to the mudroom. Earthquakes did occur sometimes in this area, and he wondered if that was what he had experienced, slight though the sensation had been. It was no stronger than the reverberations from a heavy cart as it rolled by. Of course, no cart was nearby.

“Did you feel an earthquake?” he asked the boot boy in the mudroom, but the boy just shook his head.

He asked the first maid he saw the same question, but she hadn’t felt it either. Maybe the old fort was too stable for a small quake to be felt. “Is tea being served anywhere presently?”

“Lady Rowena and Miss Courtnay had a tray sent into the puzzle room less than ten minutes ago, sir,” the maid said.

He nodded and decided to go there. Gloves weren’t practical in the stable and his hands felt like blocks of ice. He walked down the corridors, stamping his feet to get feeling back into his toes.

Just as he had his hand on the doorknob of the puzzle room, he heard boots pounding through the hall. Eddy appeared, hair flopping over his eyes as he raced, waving something at him. Lewis opened the door and Eddy flew through, not stopping until he banged into a table with a half-finished puzzle on it. The pieces flew into the air with all the force of a hurricane behind them.

Thankfully, Lady Rowena and Penelope were at a different table, the tea tray behind them. Fires blazed under both chimneys. The air smelled temptingly of the evergreen boughs that decorated the mantels. While the modern lighting was quite good, beeswax tapers also scented the air delightfully, their flames dancing above three-pronged candelabras set on tables along one wall.

“Good heavens,” the young lady cried. “I thought we were being invaded.”

“My apologies,” Lewis said. “This young jackanapes could not figure out how to put the brakes on in time to avoid discomfiting you.”

“I am sorry,” Eddy said. “Can I speak to you, sir?” He pointed back to the corridor.

Lewis nodded his head and regretfully followed his apprentice back to the chilly hallway. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you this afternoon.”

Eddy shoved a grubby handkerchief at him.

“What’s this?” Lewis asked, taking it.

“It’s a bird,” Eddy said, working his jaw until it protruded. “I knew you wouldn’t make one for the girl, so I did it.”

L
ewis frowned at the lad, feeling as if Eddy had reprimanded him. “I made the decision to leave mechanical birds in my past. An inventor has the right to move on to the next project.”

“You might be able to fix the submarine if you worked on a bird,” Eddy insisted. “You know what you’re doing with them things, and maybe you could design the feathers to work like the hull plating. Solve your design problem.”

“I believe I already fixed that yesterday,” Lewis said, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chilled fingers into his armpits.

“I don’t think you did,” Eddy insisted. “You were muttering about it last night, and that’s always a sign your mind’s still workin’.”

Lewis chuckled. “Think you know everything, don’t you, boy?”

“I’ve been wi’ you a long time now, sir. I bet if you worked on the right kind of bird you’d get it sorted out. The movement of the wings could simulate the submarine hull.”

He sighed. “I shall take your suggestion under advisement. What did you make? It seems to me you’ve already met Lady Allen-Hill’s requirement.”

Eddy bowed his head, his bravado leaving him. “It’s just a carving. I painted it a little, to look like the stork she saw.”

Lewis realized the blotches on the handkerchief were black paint. “Might have needed to let it dry a bit longer.”

“It’s dry enough,” he muttered.

Lewis opened the splotchy cloth to uncover a hand-size rendition of a white stork, complete with a long, skinny red beak. No attempt had been made to define the feathers, but Eddy had done a perfect job with the overall shape and distinctive coloring of the bird. “It’s a lovely job, Eddy. I’m sure she will adore it.”

“Will you give it to her?”

Lewis smiled and handed it back to him. “I won’t take credit for your work, lad. You should have the honor.”

Eddy blushed and ducked his head. “I’m too coarse for the likes of Miss Penelope. I shouldn’t even speak to her.”

“She’s not some fine lady but the niece of a manufacturer. Wealthy, to be sure, but not a blue blood.”

“But what am I, Lewis? Just some Cockney who never even knew his own father.”

“You’re a self-made lad,” Lewis said, putting his hand on Eddy’s shoulder. “You’re going to do fine things with your life, be a man to be proud of. That’s more important than family, in my book. You go and give her the bird.”

“I knocked over that puzzle,” Eddy said, staring down at the floor with his jaw outthrust. Lewis noticed a hint of fuzz on the boy’s upper lip that hadn’t been there before the house party.

“We’ll pick it up together,” Lewis promised, giving the boy a little shove. “Now go, and no bashfulness.”

The sight of fourteen-year-old Eddy, blushing and stammering, his hands shaking as he handed his creation to the small girl, warmed Lewis’s heart like nothing else could. The girl’s gasp of pleasure, the way she flung herself artlessly against Eddy until he was forced to hug her back, made him almost contemplate a design for those black-feathered wings. Was Eddy right? Could the project help him with a better design for the submarine?

He rubbed his cold fingers over his forehead, feeling his innards stiffen at the mere idea of making a bird again, of revisiting that unhappy time in his life when he was unappreciated and under his uncle’s thumb. When his best friend and cousin, Sir Gawain, was a grumpy, bitter, wounded ex-soldier being forced to learn accounting. When Sir Gawain’s twin, Alys, fought against the family’s urge to become country gentry with every bit of her strength and still lost the battle against her father. When Rose and Matilda, the younger girls, were selfish and grasping. Now, Sir Gawain and Alys were happily married with children, and Rose had grown into a lovely and sensitive young woman. Matilda was fulfilling her potential as the new heir to the Redcake’s businesses, handling her father better than anyone in the family ever had. Had everyone moved on but Lewis? Why was a silly mechanical bird the symbol for everything that had been wrong three years before?

“Why are you so unable to supervise your cousin properly? She’s going to have to go away to school if you can’t manage her,” Victoria’s father growled.

He stood in front of the large fireplace in the drawing room before dinner. Victoria wanted to tell him to move away, that his coat might get singed, but her father was in a foul mood.

“What were you thinking, allowing her to go out of sight and leave the Fort for a full morning?”

Victoria’s lips tightened, leaving her unable to speak any kind of defense. Was his criticism just? She was supposed to be concentrating on husband-hunting per his orders, not watching her cousin every moment.

“And fawning over that Lewis Noble in his sickbed. You want a healthy specimen, Victoria.”

She found her voice. “He nearly drowned, Father. It is not as if he came down with some random illness.”

He snorted. “Nonetheless, it is a poor showing for someone who works outdoors as he does.”

“We are having an uncommonly cold and damp winter for these parts,” she protested. “Besides, the issue at hand is my competence to manage a nine-year-old girl.”

“A highly emotional one at that,” her father muttered.

“She has every reason to be.”

“Why in God’s name did you find it necessary to take her to see her mother? Your lack of judgment makes me wonder.”

Victoria pressed her lips tightly together again. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I love Penelope, Father. I am not, perhaps, the most natural mother, but I am trying. She is not the average child.”

“No, she’s a Courtnay.” Her father sniffed and drew himself up, placing his hand in his pocket, a dandified gesture that seemed uncharacteristic.

Victoria turned and saw Rose enter the room. When she turned back, she saw color had come into his cheeks. She also realized he’d taken pains with his hair, taming his graying locks with pomade. The shiny result was not displeasing, at least not to Rose, who gave him a warm smile.

Her father smiled in an almost sickening fashion as well.

“I can see I’m losing your interest, Father, and indeed I am happy to see you so glad to see Rose Redcake. But please, give me another chance. Don’t send Penelope to boarding school. We will do very well together in Liverpool, she and I. I promise.”

“How are you going to find a husband there?” he asked. “You’ve rejected every eligible man in our circle.”

“I will do my best to resolve the matter quickly, before we leave,” she said, though the notion made her queasy.

He raised an eyebrow. “How do you plan to manage that?”

Rose’s gaze turned away as the door opened. Three men entered: Lewis, the Baron of Alix, and the Earl of Bullen.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Father. I’ll bring someone up to snuff.” Hopefully, she could look forward to a long engagement at least, a time when her father would be pleased with her and she would still have some freedom of movement. Time for Rose to enact her plan with Lewis.

“If you are engaged by Twelfth Night, I won’t send Penelope to Miss Treadgold’s Academy,” her father said. “Mind you, she’s already been entered there, so it is the work of a moment to put her on the train to Birmingham.”

His words hit her with the power of a physical blow. “You’d send her so far away? I had no idea you’d taken such steps.” Victoria pressed her hand to her stomach. Why on earth would her father threaten such a thing? He did look a bit wild-eyed, as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

“I have no time or inclination to be less than practical,” her father said. He puffed out his cheeks, then blew, as if discarding the conversation. “Keep your promise to me and we’ll have no need to discuss the matter further.”

He stomped away, heading toward the liquor decanters along one wall, under a portrait of the first Earl of Bullen, dating back to the seventeenth century. The long-dead nobleman glared eternally at his descendants, probably missing the Scottish lands from which he’d come so long ago. Victoria wondered what had happened to the original family who’d held the Fort.

That thought, that dynastic thought, could only hold her attention for a moment. Today was January 4. She didn’t have much time to become engaged. Tomorrow was her deadline. Staring at the knot of men in the doorway, she considered.

Would the Earl of Bullen agree to a false engagement to keep him off the marriage mart? Considering how little he seemed to notice the ladies crowded around him, thanks to his absentminded inventor’s air, probably not.

So that left John, the Scottish baron. She liked him, but she’d have to live in Scotland if they truly went through with a marriage, give up everything she knew. Penelope would be forced to live far away from either of her parents if she went with her, but allowing her to start over might be the kindest thing Victoria could do for her.

Would John be willing to take Penelope on? Victoria knew she would have to find out, and soon. She took a few steps toward the trio and smiled tentatively. John immediately caught sight of her and stepped away from the other men. When he reached her side, she moved toward the piano and sat. He sat next to her as she fingered a German dance piece by Shubert.

“Are ye going to play?” he asked.

“The dinner gong will be soon.”

“Ye wanted tae speak to me alone, then?”

She turned to him, determined, saw the open, friendly expression on his face “We agreed to be merely friends, once.”

“My position in life does not allow me tae manage English factories,” John said carefully.

“My father has lifted that stricture in your case.”

“In mine?” His eyebrows drew together. “Have ye spoken of me?”

She nodded. The right side of his mouth lifted into an engagingly lopsided smile. She couldn’t quite imagine kissing that mouth, but once she was away from Lewis, surely his sensual power over her would recede, and she had Penelope to think about. Miss Treadgold’s Academy was notoriously cold and unloving. Only the naughtiest girls were sent there, girls with parents who wanted them out of the way because they were an embarrassment. They’d be fed properly, and educated a little, but nothing else. It was not a good place for this high-strung child.

John cleared his throat. “Should I speak to your father?”

“Is that what you want to do?” Victoria forced herself to stop fiddling with the sheet music and folded her hands into her lap.

“I like you, Lady Allen-Hill. I think we should suit.”

“My cousin Penelope would have to live with me. You must be aware of that.” She glanced sideways at him. “I don’t want her sent away from me.”

He seemed unperturbed. “I don’t see that she presents a problem. Does Edinburgh?”

“It might be an improvement over Liverpool.”

He chuckled. “I thought ye had your heart set on London. And Lewis Noble.”

“Come, John, you can’t imagine my father would accept him for me.”

“No man would be happy tae have his daughter lose a title, once gained.” John ran his index finger over her knuckles in a quick gesture of affection. “I cannot blame him for that.”

“You would have to hire managers for all the businesses someday.”

“I will educate myself on the issues and the men, just as I do for my Scottish properties. I’m a hard worker, Victoria. I won’t lose your fortune. I’ll be generous tae ye.”

“I believe you. May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” He spread his fingers on his thighs. “Anything.”

“Why did you come to this house party? Were you looking for a wife?”

“I was meant tae take a look at the Gill girls,” John said. “I was at Oxford with Nicholas. He thought I might want to marry one of his sisters.”

“You went to school with the earl? I had no idea.”

John nodded. “Ye see, it isn’t so unusual after all. Honestly, I am a better catch than those Dickondells, but one has the sense the Gills are happy to stay down here, near their ancestral lands.”

“I was just remembering they were Scottish originally.”

“Long ago. They came south with James I. The Gills are a bonnie lot, but I’ll be happier with ye, I think. And it’s time I marry.”

She knew he didn’t love her, but with her deadline looming, this engagement would be quite good enough. In fact, she liked him better than she had Sir Humphrey. It was only the passion she’d experienced with Lewis that made her sorry. But John was handsome, fit, and amiable. He would not be unpleasant to look at or speak to over the breakfast table. Assuming she had to go so far as to actually marry him.

“Please do speak to my father, if you have resolved that you would like to do so,” she said, staring at the stark black and white keys. “I have no objections.”

His hand went over hers, his palm pressing the back of her hand. Her skin was cold underneath his.

“It makes sense that’d ye’d be nervous and shy,” he said in a low voice. “Your first experience was brief and rather painful, with your sudden loss and plunge into widowhood at an age when ye should have been attending parties and enjoying yourself. I am glad I found ye here, before you went to London and were swept back into fashionable society.”

She forced herself to smile at him. He didn’t seem to realize her father had meant to keep her in Liverpool with him, not flit around London. But the deeper she moved into her commitment to him, the more she wanted to turn and implore Lewis with her eyes, to stop this before it was too late. She didn’t want to ruin John’s life.

“As soon as it is all settled, we should leave the Fort,” she said. “Go right away. There is so much to do, and I need to hire a governess for Penelope. She has been running wild.”

“Of course,” John said. “We will go to London on Tuesday. Ye won’t want to miss the Twelfth Night bonfire party.”

“They have a bonfire that night?” She’d never heard of such a tradition.