Pleasures of a Tempted Lady (20 page)

Will shook his head. There was no turning back. Now that he’d made the decision, he knew it was the right one. “To hell with logic. To hell with evidence. If we have to
stay up all night preparing the servants and packing the carriages, then that’s what we’ll do. But I’m leaving London tomorrow, and Meg and Jake will be with me.”

Meg convinced Will to bring Thomas along with them to Prescot. The boy’s mother was traveling in France, and Meg couldn’t bear to think of him alone in London with only a few servants for company. So, at the very last minute, when they were literally mounting the carriage steps, she’d requested that he join them.

Will’s hesitation had been palpable. Meg couldn’t imagine why he was so loath to bring his son with them, but speaking in low tones to him in an unmoving carriage while Jake squirmed with impatience, she’d finally drawn out the truth.

Will harbored concerns that the child would remind Meg of his inconstancy. That had just made Meg shake her head. “Even if he does, Will, even if it does cause me a soul-deep pain every time I look at him, I won’t see you reject him for my ‘comfort.’ That would be infinitely worse.”

“I’d never reject him,” Will had said. “But how could I subject you to him if he causes you pain?”

“Listen,” she’d said softly. “If there is to be anything between you and me—even friendship—ever again, then I must learn to be with Thomas. I won’t have you hiding him from me. He’s too bright a child not to recognize what you’re doing. That would hurt him beyond repair. Above all, Thomas is innocent of any wrongdoing, and a child certainly shouldn’t be punished for someone else’s mistakes.”

Will had finally relented, and he, Meg, Thomas, and Jake had traveled to Lancashire together. They’d taken
two carriages—one for the four of them and another for the four servants Jonathan had insisted Meg bring along. The journey had been uneventful. Besides Meg and Will constantly striving to entertain two very active, restless boys, there was little else for them to discuss.

Still, Meg had silently observed Will as the carriage rumbled through the English countryside. His patient tone with his son made her heart ache, but at the same time, it was comforting to her. It had taken him years to take on the responsibility, but unlike so many other men of his station, he’d sacrificed pride, reputation, and probably the opportunity for a good marriage in favor of an obvious and open devotion to his son.

He also seemed to be developing a bond with Jake, who still worshipped him. Will never made Jake feel left out or awkward or different. Very few people were capable of those feats with the young boy.

By the time they arrived in Prescot on the third day, and the carriages pulled up to the house—a box-shaped white structure—late in the morning, Meg was softening toward Will. She had never been one to hang on to anger and bitterness. What was the point when neither of them could change the past?

In any case, it was the Will of today who mattered, not the Will of eight years ago. And she had no reason to believe that the Will of today would repeat such a mistake—in fact, all of his actions since he’d found her led to the opposite conclusion.

“We’re here!” Meg told the boys, both of whom had been looking glumly out the window for the past hour and a half after Will had told them that if they didn’t stop saying, “Are we there yet?” they’d be sent to bed tonight
without any dinner—or any of the candy sticks he’d bought for them in Prescot.

“Finally,” Thomas groaned.

“Candy!” Jake exclaimed.

Meg and Will exchanged a smile. The coachman opened the door and pulled the step, and the boys scrambled out, leaving Will to help Meg step down.

The house was very small and pretty, with trimmed yew box hedges lining the path to the front door.

Benson, their man-of-all-work, had the keys, and he opened the doors for them. The place wasn’t as cold and musty as one might expect of a vacant house. Instead the air smelled fresh, the furniture appeared recently brushed and cleaned, and the floors sparkled.

Will watched her looking it over and grinned. “Harper told me he’d sent word ahead and ordered the place cleaned for us.”

“They did a lovely job,” Meg murmured. Between the spotlessness of the house and the group of servants filing in behind them carrying their luggage, how on earth would she keep herself occupied in this place?

The boys had already run upstairs, and Meg lifted her skirts and hurried after them, Will following closely behind. Jake appeared at the landing above her. He pointed to his left. “Thomas and I sleep there.” He swung his pointing finger to his right. “And you and Captain Will sleep there.”

“Ah”—Meg quickly assessed the two doorways at the top of the stairs—“No, I don’t think so. I’ll sleep with you, and Thomas will sleep with Captain Langley.” Reaching the landing, she maneuvered Jake toward the smaller of the two bedchambers, ignoring the buzz that seemed to
vibrate through her body in response to the boy’s innocent suggestion.

Jake pouted. “I want to sleep with Thomas.”

“I know, darling, but it’s just not going to work. Perhaps when we return to London.”
Whenever that might be.

She looked over her shoulder at Will. “But where will the servants sleep?” she whispered.

“There’s a loft in the stable for the men, and there’s an area off the kitchen where there’s a pallet for the women.”

“Is that enough space?”

“It’ll have to be.”

Meg sighed. Clearly this house had not been built with the expectation of housing four servants.

They spent the next few hours settling in—unpacking their luggage while stowing away the fragile items around the house that two active young boys might break. Two servants were sent into Prescot to buy enough food from the inn there to sustain them until the next market day—which they discovered was the day after tomorrow.

They’d eaten dinner by eight o’clock, and in an effort that was met with much celebration, Will had successfully pulled Jake’s loose tooth with a string one of the servants found in the stable. When they had the boys settled in their respective rooms and the servants had disappeared for the evening, an exhausted Meg and Will sat on the velvet sofa in the small parlor together, sharing a bottle of wine.

Meg glanced at Will. “Would you mind very much if—” She hesitated, then sighed.

“If…?” He took a sip of his wine, his dark eyes meeting her gaze over the rim of his glass. “I can’t readily think of you doing anything I’d mind, Meg.”

“Oh, goodness, you must be sotted. I can think of several things.”

“Such as?”

“Falling overboard in the Atlantic, for one.”

He sobered. “Yes.” He reached across the small space separating them and gathered her hand in his own. “I’d mind that very much.”

She gave him a faltering smile. “My feet… they hurt terribly. Would you mind if I took off my shoes? Just for a moment,” she added hastily, not knowing how to interpret the serious set of his mouth.

“Why would I mind that?”

“I… don’t know.” She looked toward the fireplace—a simple brick hearth. The fire burned with an orange glow, emitting a lovely heat that washed over her body. “Caversham… he would become enraged if I ever behaved as anything but a perfect lady in his presence. He threatened to toss me overboard and find a real lady to properly teach his wife.”

A breath hissed through Will’s teeth. “I’m not Caversham.”

She met and held his dark eyes in her gaze. “When I last knew you, I don’t believe I behaved as anything but a perfect lady.”

“You didn’t… Well, except…”

She tore her gaze from his. “Right.” Stupid of her to forget
that
.

“Take off your shoes, Meg.”

Feeling awkward, she did as he said. Sitting in the carriage all day had made her feet swell a little, and her shoes had been pinching her feet during all the running up and down the stairs this afternoon. She couldn’t resist
a groan of pleasure as she curled her toes and they gave a few appreciative—but very unladylike—cracks.

Will leaned down and gathered one of her feet in his hands, pulling it up to his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he murmured, and then he began to rub her aching feet. Meg could do nothing but make little moans of appreciation when he pressed the worst of the aches away.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

He rubbed one stockinged foot for several minutes and then kissed her toes and gently lowered it and retrieved her other foot, beginning the process all over again.

“Thank you, Meg,” he said, his voice so quiet she hardly heard over the crackle of the fire.

“For what?”

“For being kind to Thomas. Most women in your position… wouldn’t.”

“Thomas is a lovely child,” she said truthfully. “He’s becoming a good friend to Jake.”

Still rubbing her feet, he looked up to gaze at her, his face infused with the softest expression she’d ever seen. She relaxed back into the sofa, her eyes half-lidded.

“Better?” he murmured, focusing on his task again.

“Infinitely.”

“You’re tired.”

“Yes.”

He continued his blissful rubbing in silence for several more minutes. She was half-asleep when she felt him lowering her foot and then scooping her into his arms. She clung to his neck as he carried her upstairs, where he gently deposited her into bed beside Jake.

He smoothed back her hair, tucked the covers up around her, and kissed her on the mouth. His lips were so soft and warm, like the most comforting blanket. “Sleep well, my love.”

She didn’t remember him leaving the room, because by the time he reached the door, she was already asleep.

Jessica tore open the seal and let her poached egg grow cold on the table while she read the letter. Finally, she looked up, grinning. “They have safely arrived at their destination,” she told Serena and Beatrice, mindful of not giving away Meg’s exact location with the footmen hovering about.

Serena pushed out a relieved breath. “Thank the Lord. Now to keep them safe.”

“Exactly.”

“How is the house?” Beatrice asked. She’d spent a short amount of time in the same house with Jessica just last year. “Have they settled in well?”

Jessica nodded. “Very well, but she’s afraid the boys will cause damage, and she thinks Sebastian might be angry.”

“Oh, goodness. Sebastian has a child of his own. He understands how curious little ones can be,” Serena said.

Jessica snorted. If you asked her brother-in-law about his own daughter, little Margie, he’d say she was the most intelligent, talented child in the world. More like the most spoiled, Jessica thought wryly, and more than capable of expensive destruction. In fact, just before they’d all left Sussex this spring, Margie had destroyed a vase that a friend of Jonathan’s father had excavated in Egypt. Sebastian had just shrugged and cooed at her. Good thing the
rest of her family was so tolerant, Jessica thought. Still, after that, Serena had stowed away most of the more expensive relics in the earl’s house.

Serena set her toast down and leaned forward across the breakfast table. “Listen, both of you. I think the Marquis of Millbridge, and maybe some other people, will be sniffing around us, asking about Meg.”

“Meg?” Jessica cocked her head. “You mean my sister, the Countess of Stratford? She’s very well, thank you.” She grinned.

“Oh,” Beatrice added, “Meg is my bosom friend’s older sister. She’s married to the Earl of Stratford.”

“Right. I’m Meg. We have no knowledge of any other Meg.”

“Although our sister Serena, Meg’s twin,” Jessica said, putting on a sad voice, “was lost at sea when I was a little girl.”

Serena nodded. “We can’t let them know anything. I’ll remind the servants again this afternoon. No matter how they try to trick us into revealing that Meg is here, we cannot allow anyone outside of our family to know.”

“Except Mr. Briggs,” Jessica said. The ever-so annoying—and annoyingly fascinating—Mr. Briggs.

“Right. Except Mr. Briggs.”

After breakfast, Jessica and Serena went upstairs to change into their walking dresses. They planned to spend the afternoon shopping in Bond Street—Serena wanted a new pair of shoes and Jessica needed new evening gloves for the Season.

Beatrice cried off the shopping trip, as she usually preferred to stay at home. Today, she wanted to work in the kitchen with Cook—they were perfecting a new
dessert that Beatrice planned to try on the family at dinner tonight.

When she knocked on her sister’s dressing room door, Serena emerged in her new spring dress—a bright coral-colored confection that made Jessica blink in surprise. “Oh, my goodness.”

Serena whirled, her voluminous skirts billowing. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. But truly, I think it’s more me than you. Don’t you?” Serena usually opted for more somber colors.

Serena shook her finger good-naturedly at Jessica. “Oh, no you don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“This is my dress. Order your own if you want one for yourself.”

“Well, I will,” Jessica said. It still seemed odd that Serena would tell her to order a brand-new, ridiculously expensive, utterly fashionable dress so flippantly. Jessica had to constantly remind herself that her brothers-in-law were a duke and an earl, and the Donovans would never suffer for lack of funds again.

She remembered the day Mother had slaughtered their last sheep, remembered how quickly the mutton had disappeared between four hungry sisters. Mother hadn’t eaten any of it—it was right before Serena and Phoebe had left for England, and Mother had wanted them to look healthy and presentable to the
ton
.

Jessica would never eat mutton again.

“Well, you needn’t have such a sour look on your face,” Serena said crossly. “I was just saying that you’ve no need to pine after my dress.”

Jessica closed her eyes, then looked at her oldest sister.
“I was just remembering the sheep. The
last
of the sheep,” she said with emphasis.

Some of the color drained from Serena’s pink cheeks. Of all of them, she had been most attached to the sheep—especially the lambs. “Ah,” she murmured. Then she gave Jessica a curious look. “Why?”