Chapter 15
Fifteen
The king had suffered a grievous battle wound.
“You are strong, my king,” the concubine said as he burned with fever. “And not because you are my king. You are my king because you are strong.”
It was a fine point, but one that gave him the will to live another day. And then another, and another, and another, until the wound was merely one more ridge of shiny skin for the concubine to kiss and caress.
— The Concubine and Her King. Unpublished MS.
Henry woke, reached for Susannah, and discovered he was alone. She had left.
She’s left for good.
He shook his head. No. Likely she hadn’t wanted to be discovered in his lordship’s bed. Henry didn’t care what Carruthers thought or repeated to others, but it was a far more dangerous thing for Susannah than for Henry. A double mark against her, given her sex and his rank.
Oh, no. Oh, no. He scrubbed his face with his hands. What had he done?
Remember she came to you, Henry Delamere.
But only after he had laid out the most obvious hints, said she had somehow trapped him with her enchanting nature, essentially told her he would be waiting for her to come to his bed. Given her instructions.
He hadn’t wooed her
He’d earled her.
And then he’d seduced her and proceeded to splatter all over her in the most grotesque and juvenile way.
She’d be right to leave him.
Carruthers came in with the morning tea and made no comment on the open curtains, the wet rag left on a table, the scratches on his lordship’s shoulders.
Henry had the valet shave and dress him in his riding clothes.
Feeling himself an interloper in his own house and a traitor to everything he believed, he crept down the stairs.
Maybe she hadn’t left.
“Eakins, Miss Beasley.”
“In the large library, my lord.”
She was still here. But knowing that didn’t comfort him the way he had expected. He went to his stables and had a long, hard gallop.
At the end of it, Henry knew what he must do.
He had his apology ready. He would tell Miss Beasley he had behaved in an unforgivable manner and would beg her pardon.
He would pay her the one hundred and forty-seven pounds still remaining for her time and trouble.
He would arrange for a carriage to take her wherever she wished.
She would be under no obligation to write the book for Mina.
He didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t possibly deserve her. He’d make her leave him before it was too late.
It might be too late already.
The library door was wide open. He hesitated on the threshold.
She was sitting at the table across the room, three or four books open in front of her, and she was staring out the window, twisting a strand of her hair in her fingers.
She seemed lost in some world of her own, and he hated to be the one to drag her back into this loathsome one where lecherous men made free with the vulnerable because they could.
He stepped in and closed the door. Her head turned, and her cheeks went pink as she jumped to her feet. She flew—yes, flew—across the room and collided with him and threw her arms around his neck.
“You.” Her smile was radiant, eager. “You’re here.”
His plans to send her away evaporated. His arms went around her, his hands cupped her back. He held her to him.“Yes.”
“I want to kiss you,” she said. “I’ve been thinking all morning about kissing you. Do you think I should?”
He did not consider the wisdom of his answer.
“Yes,” he said.
Her eyes flared wide, and her breath stuttered. He flattened his palms against her spine and spread his fingers to brace her, to give her the support she might need for this act of daring.
She touched his face as if he were a fragile thing that might shatter, as if he could not withstand what she might do to him.
She was right.
Her fingertips traced his jawline, came to his lips, and he lowered his head to show her his willingness, but, despite the heat rising in his belly, his cock hardening into a baton of steel in his breeches, he did not kiss her.
Words were important to her. She had said she wanted to kiss him, not the other way around. So he held her and waited until her lips came to his.
Her kiss was soft and warm and lingering.
“Oh,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I liked that.”
He answered by nipping back at her mouth, a short, sharp kiss.
“Oh, yes,” she said, and her eyes sparkled. “Who’s a saucy minx now?”
The door opened. Damn. He was going to have to tell Eakins to have all the servants knock or get into the habit of locking doors. Or both.
Susannah tried to squirm away, but Henry held her fast. He didn’t want her to think he was ashamed or embarrassed to be holding her or kissing her or fucking her. Even though he hadn’t done that. Yet.
“My lord. Lady Newland has come to call with her house guests.”
“Show them into the pink drawing room, Eakins.”
The butler departed, and Henry gave Susannah one long ravishing kiss before finally releasing her.
“I’ll go see these visitors, and then I want to take you to my favorite strawberry patch.”
“Mina told me about the strawberry patch. She’ll come with us, yes?”
Henry had already imagined feeding Susannah strawberries in the sun, tickling her under her chin with clover, and making her come with his cock inside her. But Susannah wanted Mina to share in their adventure, and he never wanted to disappoint either of them.
“Yes. Go and make sure she’s ready. I’ll be polite then make my excuses. If it comes to it, I’ll feed Lady Newland jam tarts, and her sensitive stomach will make her rush home to use her own necessary. But if I’m not in the nursery in half an hour, both of you must come rescue me.”
He couldn’t resist giving a little tap to Susannah’s bottom as she went out the door. She looked over her shoulder and gave him the most delightfully mischievous smile.
He was a lucky, lucky man. There could be nothing sweeter than being in a conspiracy with Susannah Beasley.
He adjusted the lie of his cock before leaving the large library and straightened his cravat as he made his way to the pink drawing room. His step was brisk and light, and his heart was the same.
But damn, damn, double damn. Lady Newland’s house guests were all too familiar to him.
“Lord Ashthorpe, how very good to see you.” Lady D'Oyly spoke as if she were welcoming him to his own house.
“Lady Newland, Lady D'Oyly. Miss D'Oyly, Miss Charlotte D’Oyly.” He bowed to each in turn.
“As you know, Lady D'Oyly and I are cousins, Lord Ashthorpe,” Lady Newland said.
If Henry had ever known this, he had forgotten.
“We had to come visit dear Agatha,” Lady D’Oyly said. “And I knew you must be missing Emma.”
Emma looked furious, Charlotte suppressed a yawn, and nothing could stop Lady D’Oyly from wittering on.
“My lord, it is so very good to see you again.”
“I hope Sir John is in good health.”
“He is, he is. He is at home.” She sniffed. “Will you not ask us to sit, Ashthorpe? Here, you must have Emma sit on the sofa, and the rest of the ladies will arrange ourselves in chairs. Then you and Emma may have a coze in peace while we amuse ourselves.”
Henry asked for tea and other refreshments to be brought. “Be sure there are jam tarts,” he said to Eakins and went and sat next to Emma.
“How is your health, Miss D'Oyly?”
“Very well. And yours, Lord Ashthorpe?”
“I am very well.”
“The weather has been particularly fine.”
“Yes. Indeed.”
Lady Newland and Lady D'Oyly were talking and making occasional remarks to Charlotte, all while stealing sly glances at the sofa and its occupants.
“My mother, as you may have noticed, can be quite impulsive.” Emma raised her voice. “It was a very sudden trip. Papa did not approve.”
“Nothing would do except for Emma to come to visit my cousin,” Lady D'Oyly said. “And then nothing would do except for us to come and call on you, Lord Ashthorpe.”
Emma closed her eyes, and Henry felt a great deal of pity for her.
“I am a most fortunate old gentleman, then.” He spread his arms to include all the women. “To have four such lovely ladies in my drawing room.”
He didn’t know he had it in him. After the magic of last night and Susannah, he was suddenly a charmer himself, all butter and sugar.
Lady D’Oyly laughed. “Old? Nonsense. You are in the prime of life. Surely, you must be thinking of marrying again?”
Emma groaned quietly.
Henry had learned a bit from his enchantress about sauciness as a weapon of deflection.
“Only if you’re thinking of adding another husband to your harem, Lady D’Oyly.”
He considered adding a wink but thought that might be a step too far.
Charlotte burst into a huge laugh, her whole body shaking, and she nearly slipped out of her chair. Emma giggled. Lady Newland smiled. Lady D’Oyly had no idea how to take his comment and fumbled for her fan.
“Oh, my,” she said. “My.”
Henry turned to Emma again. “Yes, Miss D’Oyly, the weather is perfect.”
Perfect for picking strawberries with his two perfect girls. Where the hell were those jam tarts?
Susannah wanted to run up the stairs as Mina would have done. Every part of her was so alive right now, thrumming with Henry, Henry, Henry.
How he’d kissed her, held her.
Licked her.
Completed her.
And not just with his tongue but also with his kindness, his honesty. He had shared so much with her. Yes, his body and his release. Yes, the pain of his past. But also his rare smiles, his courtesy, his granddaughter.
He had let Susannah into his life, and she would never do anything to make him regret it.
How Susannah was startled into love.
She paused her climb. To fall in love was surely a heady experience at any age. But so much more so when one had had all those years of not-love, of not falling, of not even knowing there might be a love-sized-hole for one to fall into.
She laughed, alone on the stairs, her head spinning with falling into Henry’s touch, his kiss, his smell. Him.