Oh, dear. She needed to speak to Rebecca regarding their philanthropic efforts. The helping of less-fortunate-women venture was growing by leaps. And shoving a fit earl from her bed would not be without suspect, but desperately needed, as she’d promised to meet Mabel. Biting back her groan, she lifted Huntley’s arm.
“I require sleep as I’m sure you do as well,” he growled, his head rising partway from the pillow. His hand slid up her bare hip, to her waist, and pressed against her stomach while a stiff velvety rod hardened in the crease of her buttocks. His lips teased the column of her neck. “Are you certain you wish to rise so early?”
“Such a question, sir. You, I fear, are already half there.” Her retort was a breathless huff. Dear heavens, a bawdy jest. Her entire body tensed and flamed with embarrassment waiting his chastisement for etiquette unfit for a wife.
“A joke? At fornicating? And, so early. I’m shocked.” His grunt sounded like laughter, but she couldn’t be sure.
Appalled at her awful attempt at humor, she hurriedly said, “I-I have to take Macbeth out.”
“Ring for a servant. That is their job.” My, but he was proving a large nuisance, her embarrassment quickly falling by the wayside. It was not in her nature to hang onto self-incriminations.
“I prefer taking her myself. May I remind you, sir, you are in my bedchamber?” She shoved at his chest, and Lady Macbeth who thought it all a great game, danced about, her playful yap piercing Gabby’s ears, her little toenails pricking her skin.
“I need no reminder,” he muttered.
Brita entered the room. “Good morning, milad—oh! Pardons, milady,” she choked. “So, sorry. I’ll return—”
“Hold right there, Brita. You shall do no such thing. Fetch my wrap. I must dress.”
Huntley rose to sitting. Gabby’s gaze dived straight to his, well, dear heavens, the tented coverlets then rising to his bare chest and muscular arms.
“Are you all right?” She tilted her head in the direction of the, er, tent, flames scorching a path to her face. “Is that a, um, normal condition for this time of day?”
His eyes gleamed. “It is, indeed, wife, and if you weren’t in such a hurry to rise, matters should easily be remedied.”
Lady Macbeth jumped on the tent, and Huntley grunted.
Brita came around the bed, her eyes strategically averted, and held out Gabby’s wrap. “I shall dress in the sitting room, Brita. The blue-and-white striped day dress if you please.”
Her maid dashed for the wardrobe.
“Hold on, Gabriella.” Huntley sounded as if his patience were being tested.
Gabby stopped, her hand on the door. “Yes, my lord.”
The narrowing of his eyes on her did not bode well. “I believe I shall accompany you to the garden.” He rose from the bed like Poseidon from the sea.
All that firm musculature she hadn’t been able to see the night before, unashamedly displayed before her, including a nice tight bum, as he strode to their adjoining door and disappeared. She swallowed hard. Oh, dear. What was she to do now?
~~~
Gabby quickly read through the missive she’d just received from Rebecca then discretely stuffed it in her bodice. Excellent. They were to meet later that afternoon.
She hurried down the stairs to the foyer. She might have just enough time to sneak away before Huntley made his appearance. Hopefully, Mabel would be early. She snatched Lady Macbeth’s lead from the table, thanking the almighty it was readily available and sending the pup into a frenzy of feminine barks. She reached for the door.
“Here I am, madam.” Huntley strolled in from the hall that led to his office.
Gabby’s breath left her in a whoosh. So close. Lady Macbeth, the little traitor, yapped and danced a welcome. Well, Gabby would think of something. She was quite inventive in that vein.
Huntley took her arm, and they strolled across the cobbled street to Fitzroy Square Garden. Fresh dew on the grass made it greener and the air fresher despite London’s coal-fogged air. If there wasn't this little matter with Mabel, Gabby would be thrilled with the direction her marriage had taken in the night.
But she mustn’t lose sight of hers and Rebecca’s plans. They were grand. And it appeared Rebecca may have just resolved one of their most pressing issues: what to do with the women they were destined to help.
She and Huntley strolled through the park’s small entrance, framed by trees. The only inhabitants at this hour were nannies with their young charges who were tearing about in unconstrained joy. A concrete bench circled the old-fashioned fountain, providing the only decoration. And seated on the bench across was Mabel. In the morning’s bright sun, it was easy to see how truly young the girl was.
“When is your next jaunt to the theater planned?” Huntley asked.
“Um, well, soon,” she hedged. “But I would prefer attending with Rebecca rather than my sisters.” She’d lifted her voice to garner Mabel’s attention.
