13. Parents in the Know
CHAPTER 13
PARENTS IN THE KNOW
A n hour later, at the Engels Mansion in Adrianou Street, Plaka
William Slater watched his nephew depart the small salon of their rented house, a quizzical expression settling on his face as he crossed his arms. “What the hell just happened?” he murmured, not intending for his query to be overheard.
“Your nephew seems to have met his match when it comes to a woman,” Barbara stated, stepping further into the salon. On her way to their bedchamber to prepare for bed, she had not intended to overhear the interchange between their second-oldest nephew and her husband. Curiosity had her pausing when she heard the name “Miss Diana”, however, and a complaint about David’s propensity to fall in love with every young lady he met had her listening to the rest of their conversation.
Turning on his heel, Will regarded her with an arched brow. “Met his match?” he repeated. He dropped his arms to his sides as she approached and then captured her shoulders with his hands before kissing her on the forehead. “I wasn’t aware he was in need of a set down.”
Barbara tittered. “Me, neither, but you were speaking of Miss Diana Henley , were you not?”
Will shrugged. “Yes,” he hedged.
“In her most recent letter, your stepmother mentioned that we should seek out the Henleys since the viscount has taken on a new archaeological project here in Athens.”
Will’s eyes rounded before he allowed a guffaw. “Diana is Cousin Marianne’s daughter,” he said by way of recognition.
“Indeed. I wondered if you would make the connection.”
Marianne Slater, the only daughter of Will’s uncle Donald, was married to Viscount Jasper Henley, and Diana was their only daughter. The revelation had him chuckling as he smoothed a hand over his jaw.
“And she is the boys’ second cousin, straight across,” Barbara stated, her prim grin suggesting she was enjoying herself. “I take it you’ve never met Lady Henley or her daughter?”
Will shook his head. “Well, I met Marianne when she was born at Devonville House, but I haven’t seen her since. She is younger than me—by six or seven years, I think—and she always lived with Uncle Don up in Canobie,” he explained, referring to a small village in southwest Scotland.
Barbara winced. “She grew up in his distillery?”
Screwing his face into a grimace, Will once again shook his head. “Not in the distillery. Uncle Don has a rather nice country house, I’ll have you know. At least, that’s what Father has always said. I’ve not been there myself,” he explained. “The land on which the house and distillery are located is part of the Devonville holdings, although I’m not sure if it’s entailed.”
“Next you’re going to tell me your father helped fund the whiskey venture,” she countered, not sounding very happy at the prospect.
Blinking, Will didn’t confirm her guess but said, “Uncle Don has done rather well for himself with that scotch venture. He’s become rather wealthy creating a liquor no one claimed to want or like,” he added. “Since he doesn’t have an heir, I could very well end up with the business,” he warned, arching a teasing brow.
Barbara’s eyes rounded. “No,” she said in shock.
He cleared his throat. “Since Jasper Henley is married to Marianne, he is the more likely candidate to inherit it.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Barbara murmured, although the edges of her lips curled up to indicate she had been teasing him.
“I’ve not spoken to my uncle in years, so I’ve no idea what he plans. But... I can’t imagine Henley running a distillery. Which means...” He chuckled softly. “It could end up with either Marcus or Michael,” he said, referring to the two Henley heirs.
“Or Diana,” Barbara said, arching a brow as she grinned. “Didn’t I hear Randy say something about her wearing breeches when he met her today?” She stepped from his hold and placed a hand on his arm, intending they move to their bedchamber. Given the modest size of the house they had let for their stay in Athens, there weren’t enough bedchambers for them each to have their own. Neither seemed to mind, though, since they often slept in the same bed back at Ellsworth House in Oxfordshire.
“He did,” he affirmed. “She’s, uh, apparently searching for something up on the Acropolis.”
Barbara closed the door and stood in front of Will, indicating he should undo the buttons down the back of her bodice. “Searching for what?”
“No idea. She wouldn’t tell Randy, and Marcus doesn’t seem to know, either.”
“Randy spoke with Marcus?”
“He did. He ran into him up in one of those temples. He just came from dinner at their house. The Henleys have let a mansion here in town.”
“So... the Henleys are all here? In Athens?” she asked, turning to regard him with surprise.
He nodded. “Apparently so, although I got the impression the viscount and Marianne haven’t yet arrived. Apparently they are on a wedding trip or some such. We’ll make arrangements to meet them when they get here.”
Obviously bothered by his comment, Barbara said, “They left their children on their own?”
Will scoffed, undoing his top coat and waistcoat buttons. “They’re hardly children, my sweet. Marcus is Randy’s age. He’s probably spent more time here in the Mediterranean than in England given Henley’s avocation.”
Barbara continued to frown, as if she were trying to remember something. “Wasn’t Lord Henley working with Lord Darius in Sicily? At those temples we saw in that long valley overlooking the sea?”
“He was,” Will acknowledged. “He spent a couple of decades working that dig near Girgenti—we saw some of his handiwork when we were in the Valley of the Temples,” he reminded her. “Ancient Greek and Roman mosaics are his specialty, you see, but from what Randy said, Henley has a new patron who wants him to search for something here in Athens.” He pulled off his ornate dinner waistcoat as he watched his wife step out of her dinner gown, his hands suddenly pausing.
“What is it?” she asked, hanging the gown from a peg on the wall.
“Are you intending to go to sleep?”
Barbara swallowed, immediately understanding the reason for his query. “Not for at least a half-hour. Forty-five minutes, mayhap.” She arched a brow as she undid the ties of her petticoats, the white undergarments dropping to the marble floor in a whoosh , before she rushed to stand before him. “You have the horn again ?” she whispered in surprise. She undid the knot of his cravat.
“I can’t help it when you’re half-dressed,” he replied defensively. He was quick to loosen his cravat, attempting to unwind the silk from around his neck as Barbara reached out and pulled his shirt from his pantaloons. “Just... leave it on,” she said, her hands moving to the sides of his pantaloons.
“You don’t mind then? These unexpected tumbles?” he asked in a whisper.
“Well, obviously not,” she replied as she attempted to push the pantaloons from his hips.
The top edge caught on his hardening manhood, and he chuckled as he stilled her hands and finished the task while attempting to step out of his shoes.
“I could just bend over the bed,” she offered, about to do it.
“The hell you will,” he said, his eyes darkening as he finished undressing. Not bothering to apologize for his curse, he lifted her into his arms.
“Oh!” she cried out, her body landing in the middle of the mattress. Will was over the top of her a moment later, his mouth covering hers for a long kiss before he moved his attentions to the soft mounds above the edge of her corset. After that, his head was between her quivering thighs, the stubble of his late evening beard scraping the tender skin as his tongue swept over her quim.
Barbara’s chest rose from the bed when he pushed his tongue into her. The sudden orgasm had her barely able to breathe, her gasps for air accompanied by a series of “oh”s and mewls and an occasional “yes” as her hands gripped the bed linens.
When she seemed nearly spent, he rose over her and impaled her with his rigid cock, burying himself into her in one thrust. He barely paused before thrusting into her again and again before he, too, was swept away by his own release.
When his arms finally gave way and he rolled off of her, Barbara allowed a long sigh. She turned to see his eyes closed and watched as his breathing slowed until a soft snore sounded.
Knowing he would awake with a start in a few minutes, she rolled onto her side and allowed her thoughts to wander to their nephew.
To what she had overheard whilst she stood in the corridor outside of the salon.
She has me vexed, to be sure. Treated me as if I was a competitor for whatever secret she’s trying to uncover when I know absolutely nothing about it. Nor do I care. But now... now I’m curious, dammit .
Barbara considered his comment. Had his mother, Hannah, overheard him, she was sure Hannah would think the very same thing as she was thinking.
Randy was smitten.
By a woman who wore breeches.
She couldn’t help the titter that escaped as she stared at her husband’s profile, one that his nephew and their youngest son shared.
At three-and-twenty years of age, Randy was probably too young to be considering marriage, but perhaps he would require a reminder to be on his very best behavior around his second cousin.
A reminder that really should come from his Uncle Will.
“He’s not going to ruin her.”
Barbara gave a start at hearing Will’s words. Despite his eyes still being closed, her husband was obviously conscious. “Well, I should hope not,” she replied.
“So, you were thinking it?” he challenged, lifting himself onto an elbow as he regarded her with a smirk. Although he was awake, his eyes were barely open.
“Weren’t you the one who told me Viscount Henley was forced to marry your cousin Marianne because he was caught kissing her in the gardens during a ball?” she countered. “During a ball at Weatherstone Manor, no less?”
A grunt sounded from her husband. “Jasper would have married her even if they hadn’t been caught,” he replied. “He was smitten by her the moment he laid eyes on her, or so he told my father.”
The word “smitten” had Barbara sitting up in the bed. Apparently, Will had come to the same conclusion as she had. “You should warn Randy to be careful. Just because she wears breeches?—”
“How do you know that ?” he interrupted.
Barbara blinked. “I might have... overheard him mention it,” she admitted sheepishly. “When I was walking by the parlor earlier this evening.”
Will sat up and placed his stocking’d feet on the floor. His elbows on his knees, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and chuckled softly. “I’ll, uh, mention it to him—and to Tom and to David—during breakfast in the morning. We might be in a different country, but I shouldn’t want any incidents.”
He stood and stretched before finally pulling the cravat from around his neck. The shirt followed, leaving him completely naked. In the dim light from a single candle lamp, it was apparent he had performed physical labor for most of his life. Although he had grown softer in the time since they had left Oxfordshire to join the boys on their Grand Tours, he still possessed a body like those featured in some of the statuary they had seen earlier that day.
“Apologies. I haven’t yet found my banyan,” he said when he noticed how Barbara watched him.
“Oh, you needn’t apologize,” she said, giving him a teasing grin. “If I had a marble pedestal, I could simply have you stand on it, and you could be my very own Greek statue.”
“You minx,” he accused. He strode to her side of the bed, leaning over to kiss her on the mouth. When he finally ended the kiss, he attempted to straighten and moaned in pain. “I don’t think my back could handle such an assignment,” he murmured, one hand moving to his hip as he leaned back.
“You wouldn’t have to stand on it,” she teased, rising from the bed. She made her way to one of the trunks shoved up against a wall and extracted his dressing gown. “You could recline.”
He chuckled as she held the robe for him. “Or I could just be at your beck and call,” he replied, turning to face her. “Much as I’ve been these past couple of decades.” He pulled her into an embrace and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. His grin faded when he saw her expression change. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“David said something rather curious during dinner,” Barbara replied.
His post-coital thoughts still on the two of them, Will furrowed his brows. “Remind me what he said.”
She stared up at him. “He said he saw his betrothed in the Parthenon.”
“Which one?” Will asked as he chuckled softly. He quickly sobered when he realized she was serious. “He tends to claim he’s in love with every girl he meets,” he added lamely. “I can’t imagine he’s actually proposed marriage to any of them.”
For a moment, Barbara wondered if she should be concerned. Most mothers of heirs had to worry about their sons taking a wife in time to start their nurseries before duty kept them apart for months at a time. With David, her fear was he would marry but continue to fall in love with every woman he met.
Her reverie was cut short when Will chucked her on the chin. “You were telling me about his betrothed?” he prompted.
She sighed. “Well, Tom started talking about the caryatids and their hairstyles, and I never had a chance to ask David who he was talking about,” she complained. “You do have a point, though. David does seem to fall in love rather easily. I had no idea he had actually proposed to anyone, though.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Do you suppose he was referring to Miss Diana?”
Furrowing a brow, Will shook his head. “I rather doubt he’s ever met Diana, even if she is his second cousin?—”
“And Randy and Tom’s,” Barbara reminded him.
He nodded. “The Henleys are rarely in London, so I think only the boys have met the sons, Marcus and Michael, at university.”
“Remind me why it was we didn’t meet the Henleys when we were in Girgenti?” she asked, referring to the town closest to the Greek ruins at the Valley of the Temples.
Will held up a finger. “We missed them by mere weeks. I remember a letter from Cherise mentioning the Henleys were in London,” he explained, referring to his father’s second wife and the current Marchioness of Devonville. “Something about Henley giving a speech at the Royal Society and meeting with a new patron.” He arched a brow. “Which is probably why he’s here in Athens. Given the popularity of Greek artifacts back home, they probably can’t dig them up fast enough to fill the demand.”
Barbara winced but finally allowed a prim grin. “Then I suppose I should feel privileged to have my very own,” she said, tapping him on the chest.
He chuckled, but is gaze was on his mind’s eye. “I don’t recall us ever being in town at the same time as the Henleys,” he murmured.
“Well, I know I have not met them,” Barbara said.
“Which means someone else from England was on the Acropolis today,” Will mused quietly, moving back to the bed. “We’ll ask at breakfast in the morning.” He doffed his banyan and pulled on a nightshirt before he suddenly appeared to sway. He gripped the edge of the dresser. “Either I was in the sun too much today, or I drank more of that Greek port than I thought,” he murmured.
“Tsipouro,” she said before furrowing a brow in worry. “Or ouzo, if it tastes of anise,” she added. When she saw his look of surprise, she added, “The cook explained it to me after I unwittingly drank some yesterday.” She involuntarily shuddered before making her way to her petticoats, still heaped in a huge circle at the end of the bed. “Apparently it’s a very popular drink here.”
Will shrugged as he carefully made his way back to the bed. “When in Rome,” he murmured.
“We’re not there yet, darling,” she replied, pulling up the petticoats to add them to the peg on the wall.
He grinned again, a dimple appearing at the base of one cheek. “Aw, but when we do get there...”
Her eyes rounded. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as she joined him back in the bed.
“Just you wait,” he warned, leaving a kiss on her forehead as he pulled her against the front of his body. He grinned in tipsy delight. “Just you wait.”
Although her grin matched his, it was soon replaced with a look of concern as she settled her head into the pillow next to his.
First her nephew and now her son—any other woman would be happy to learn the boys in their life had found women with whom to be smitten.
David was entirely too young to marry, though. Of that, she was sure. As for Randy, could she imagine him with a wife? At his age?
Perhaps.