“Do you know who I am?” the woman demanded, her voice so deep that she croaked like a toad.
“I fear I do not. Perhaps you accompany one of our guests, or are visiting in the village.”
“Ha! I am a guest of the Duke of Haynesdale,” the woman said, almost crowing in her triumph. “What do you make of that?”
“Only that you are welcome, as the duke’s guest.”
The older woman laughed. She leaned closer. “And would you not even ask my name, my lady?” Her question might have been a dare. Of what import was this woman’s name?
“It seems you wish to confide it in me.”
The older woman fixed her with a surprisingly intent look. “I am Mrs. Delilah Oliver.”
“Oh!” Surely this could not be the same Mrs. Oliver who had written those pages of amorous advice that had been in Eliza’s possession?
“Oh!” Mrs. Oliver mimicked, then chuckled. She poked her cane at Helena. “I believe you recognize my name,” she said.
Helena glanced toward Joshua, who spoke with the duke, then Eliza, who conferred with Nicholas and Aunt Fanny. “I did hear of a Mrs. Oliver who had written a book,” she said carefully. “Might you be that same Mrs. Oliver?”
“What do you know of this Mrs. Oliver’s book?”
Helena found herself as crimson as a strawberry herself, but she could not lie. “My brother’s wife had some pages of advice from it.” She took a fortifying breath and glanced about to ensure that no one was watching. “Upon the merit of a forthright touch,” she whispered, quoting the pages in question as her cheeks heated yet more.
Mrs. Oliver cackled. “How unsuitable a choice of reading for an unwed lady.” She seemed to be more inclined to be amused than scandalized. “I am indeed the author of a volume about the amorous arts. It is as yet in the writing.”
“I found it fascinating,” Helena confessed. “I do not suppose there are any copies of your book available for interested individuals to read?”
The older woman cackled, thumping her cane so that people turned to look. “I knew it,” she said in a gleeful whisper. “I knew you would want to see it.” She dropped her voice. “They say you are a bold one, my lady, and I see no cause to dissuadeaudacity in a young wife.” Her voice dropped yet lower. “You received a parcel in the post here this very morning, though you may not be aware of it as yet. It is of a goodly size.” She marked the dimensions with her hands. “It contains copies of some of the newest pages. I should appreciate your comments upon the contents when you return those pages to me, shall we say in a fortnight or so?”
“Then it is not a wedding gift.”
“The opportunity to read it is the gift, my lady, and it is not a small one. How scandalous it would be for you to own such a volume.” She tut-tutted, her eyes glinting. Then she leaned back to survey Helena. “I believe you might appreciate it a good deal.”
Helena smiled, having a very good idea of what to expect. “I believe I might, if the pages I read earlier were any indication. Thank you, Mrs. Oliver.” The older woman inclined her head. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“I would prefer a glass of wine, if you are not saving it all for the christening,” Mrs. Oliver retorted. “And do not make it a small one. There is no cause for compelling the footman to appear at my elbow every few moments.”
Helena beckoned to Fairfax and passed along the instruction, then dropped her voice. “Was a large parcel delivered by post today, Fairfax?” she asked, marking the dimensions as Mrs. Oliver had done.
“It was, my lady. I placed it in your bedchamber as we have not yet resolved where you will open your letters.”
“That will be fine, Fairfax. Thank you.”
Helena could barely restrain her delight. She had a copy of the book, or some part of it, for a fortnight. She intended to make use of every page, every day and night.
Finally.
They had chatted and eaten strawberries, gossiped and drunk wine, accepted congratulations and dined quietly. Joshua had enjoyed the day and its festivities, particularly Helena’s triumph as a hostess, but he was not sorry to climb the stairs that night to his chamber. Helena had sparkled beside him all day, flitting from guest to guest like a butterfly, enchanting him with her laughter and her smile.
Tonight, there would be more.
She was a madness he could not deny and one from which he had no desire of recovery. She kindled impulses within Joshua that should have never been stirred to life again. She tempted and provoked him. She teased and tested him.
He opened the door to his own bedroom and was not truly surprised to find her already in his bed. Her hair was unbound and she wore only a silken dressing gown, her feet bare and her smile welcoming. “I dismissed Reed,” she confessed. “I said I would assist you.”
Joshua sighed in mock disappointment as he closed the door and leaned back against it. Several candles burned, filling the room with their golden glow, and the heavy velvet drapes were closed against the night. The room had been decorated in hues of midnight blue and gold, a combination that might have been specifically chosen to favor this lady. “And I had so hoped to assist you.”
“Perhaps on the morrow, sir.” She rose from the bed, opening the robe and letting it slide from her shoulders as she approached him. He could not help but survey her, so smooth and rosy, so delightfully curved and soft. He reached out to cupher breast in one hand and felt her catch her breath as he slid his thumb slowly across the nipple, watching it tighten at his caress. Her hand landed on his chest and she whispered his name, even as he bent and captured her lips beneath his own. He slid his hand into the loose ebony tresses of her hair, feeling it engulf his fingers like a silken web, and lifted her to her toes to deepen his kiss.
