Chapter Nine
Teddy let himself out the front door and, squinting against the brisk wind whipping at his face and hair, crossed the esplanade toward the beach.
He made his way to the meandering wooden staircase sloping down to the surf which he’d glimpsed from his balcony.
When he reached the pebbled shore, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the salty air before bending to remove his boots and stockings.
He cuffed his pantaloons, shrugged out of his waistcoat and piled the garments on the bottom step before setting off in the direction of the bathing machines, lined up in wait.
It was a relief to get away from the silver-eyed, sweet-smelling, dimple-proffering minx who had set his mind spinning more than it had been before she appeared to claim him.
Shells bit into his heels, giving a satisfying crunch as he marched into the bracing wind coming off the sea.
Blast, but he didn’t know what to make of her. Nor did he have a clear plan to manage his conflicting desires where she was concerned. On the one hand, he wanted to dismiss her as a non-entity. Why bother with her when she’d informed him of her wish to rid herself of him?
On the other hand. Gawd. He was still half aroused. He blamed her for his state. Her and the mixed signals she kept sending him.
Her tender ministrations to his person during the carriage ride from Surrey had convinced him she quite adored him. Her subsequent banishment of him to his own solitary chamber said he’d likely got that wrong.
Her pleading—nay, insistence—he take his medicine said she cared inordinately for his welfare, and in aiding his recovery.
And yet, her wish to end their marriage before it had truly begun said she meant to cut herself free from the sinking ship she’d bound herself to before it pulled both of them under.
That last said more than everything else combined.
Thus, despite her rescue, her evident concern, and her tender treatment when she thought him unaware, he’d gone to sleep convinced the sum total of her actions added up to a singular plan to guard her future as Countess of Ainsworth—should he recover.
Should he not, well, then, nobody knew of their marriage, did they?
Very convenient.
Then last night happened. He’d awoken from a fitful slumber to find her at his bedside.
He’d have bet his last shilling she’d snuck into his chamber to assure herself he had, indeed, drunk the hated brew she’d prepared—something he’d anticipated.
But having noted the drops of liquid in the cup, the nearly empty pot, she should have left, satisfied.
Only she hadn’t. She’d stayed to watch over him before proceeding, once again, to minister to him, in that sweet, nearly reverent way, almost as if she could not help herself. She’d offered not a word of protest at his silent invitation to climb atop his bed and continue her ministrations.
He’d made no conscious decision to entreat her to stay. It was more base than that. Her presence, her succor, made him feel cared for in a way that drew him to her.
Soon, the cool compresses gave way to lingering caresses, her fingers weaving into his hair, tracing his cheeks, tickling his throat. Her touch soothed, lulled, and, ultimately, aroused him.
Half awake, half asleep, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to roll toward her, to curl his arm around the gentle slope of her hip and nestle his face into her feminine softness—at which time, he found himself fully awake and fully erect, and not necessarily in that order.
Of course, she removed herself rather than slide under the sheets with him.
He waded into the freezing water up to his ankles, then snorted. The dampening effect on his ardor he’d hoped for was proving ineffective.
That kiss had quite undone him. What was he to do with her? Nothing, he supposed. Forget her soft lips and the outpouring of…he did not know what to call it. It couldn’t be love. Whatever it was, he wanted more. Much, much more.
Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention toward the bathing machines. The guide manning them waved in invitation.
Seeing Teddy’s nod of acknowledgment, he trotted over. “Milord,” he enthused. “Thought you might care to take a dip. You’d be my first patron o’ the day. I’ll give you special rate. Five shillings. What do you say, guv’ner?”
“Done.”
Minutes later, ensconced in the wagon and stripped of his clothing, he gripped the edges of a wooden bench nailed into place and stared out the open flap as his guide maneuvered the bathing machine into place, tail end submerged in the water.
Two thumps signaled the machine’s halt. Teddy rose, gooseflesh covering his skin, and dove into the frigid, churning waves.
The shock of the icy bath enlivened his senses.
He held his breath and kicked until, lungs burning, he was forced to return to the surface.
Emerging with a whoop of delight, he shook his head to clear his hair from his eyes.
God, he loved the ocean, the buoyancy of the salt water, the exhilarating freedom.
Filling his lungs with air, he struck out, arms reaching, legs pumping, propelling himself forward until his muscles screamed in protest. He allowed himself to coast before rolling onto his back to simply float.
Feeling more peaceful than he had since waking up in an army camp hospital, he gazed up at impossibly blue skies, dotted with puffy white, silver-lined clouds.
After a few moments, the clouds dispersed to reveal the sun in all its glory. Its blinding light caused his eyes to tear and he pinched his lids shut. At first he saw only the afterimage of the golden orb.
Then, a vision danced in his mind’s eye, playing faster than he could think.
“Shall I fix you a plate?” Georgina asked. She kneeled beside a picnic basket, a short distance from him, her expression a combination of anxious and eager.
“If you like, pet.”
As he watched, a man with dark, curly hair nearly identical to hers, bent to whisper something in her ear. Something that caused her brows to pucker.
Behind him, another voice sounded. Female, with an edge that said she was less than pleased. “Teddy, you’re not listening. I was just getting to the good part.”
A wave crested over him, slapping him full on the face and giving him a nose full of salty water.
The vision vanished the same instant. Sputtering and coughing and cursing, he treaded water and tried desperately to grasp the threads of what had to be a memory.
He, Georgina, another man—Georgina’s brother, Drake, no doubt, and a faceless woman. At a park?
The other woman. What was her name?
Catherine.
Following breakfast, Georgina moved into the bright receiving room to sit at her pretty painted writing desk where she’d found Teddy this morning, intending to work.
She stared at her open notebook, and found herself unable to focus, which was decidedly unlike her.
But then, Teddy’s presence in the household had quite upended her. And that had been before that amazing, dream-come-true kiss which still had her walking on air—and overstimulated in a way she could not decide if she found more delightful or frustrating.
A knock on the door jamb sounded. She glanced up to see Danvers entering the chamber.
She resisted the urge to grin. He wore his butler’s livery well, but still, something about the man did not call to mind a household servant.
His burly build, stern features, and erect posture marked him as an ex-soldier on sight, she supposed—which was fine with her.
Especially before Teddy’s arrival, Danvers’s presence made her feel quite safe in her seaside home, and she liked to think, by hiring him on and creating a place for him when, after he returned home from the battlefield there seemed to be none, she was showing her gratitude for his service to their country.
“Pardon the interruption, ma’am, but I thought you might wish these delivered. They arrived via the post this morning.”
He proffered what appeared to be two letters.
She thanked him, accepting the missives—one from Lady Amelia, the other from her mother—and thumbed off the first, when a thought struck.
“Mr. Danvers, a moment if you please?”
He paused at the door. “Yes, ma’am?”
She hadn’t thought this through. How to phrase her question without revealing her ever-so-slight distrust of Teddy. “My husband, Lord Arlington…”
Danvers arched a single, black brow.
“He…er…you brought him his special tea this morning, I believe he said?”
Danvers said nothing, just continued to wait, clearly expecting more.
She searched her mind. “I wondered if you had any questions about its preparation? It’s quite important that he receive a portion morning, midday, and night—to aid in his recovery, you see.”
A slight, inscrutable smile curved his broad mouth. “Ah. No, ma’am. No questions.”
“Excellent. I can trust you to see he receives it, on schedule, then?”
“Certainly, ma’am. Will there be anything else?”
With a grateful smile, she dismissed him.
Teddy had not lied, and from now on, she could count on Mr. Danvers to prepare the tea and deliver it in keeping with the prescribed schedule—which meant Georgina could cease badgering Teddy like a harpy, something neither of them enjoyed.
She turned her attention to the letters before her. A small amount of dread concerning what her mother might have written, in light of the way they had parted, inclined her to start with Lady Amelia’s correspondence.
My dear Georgina,
I hope this letter finds you well and that you are settling in nicely to your beautiful villa on the sea, despite the difficult decision you recently made, and your consequential move from your parents’ home for the foreseeable future.
The ladies and I are all so proud of you as regards the unfortunate circumstance, the details of which I will not put in writing.