As the days passed, Kate investigated the castle. The library was her favorite room; the scent of old tomes made her think of her home in Oxfordshire. She spent hours there, reading by the fire with Felix stretched out on the rug beside her.
Kate’s footsteps echoed as she walked beneath the high buttressed ceiling of the paneled great hall. She imagined a grand ball there with an orchestra in the minstrel gallery and ladies and gentlemen performing the steps of a country dance. Perhaps one day she and Robert would hold one. The responsibility of such an undertaking sent a prickle of unease through her even though she doubted it would appeal to him. He seemed to prefer the metropolis to the country.
There were so many bedchambers she lost count, most furnished in heavy mahogany. Her chamber was one of the best, although Robert’s was larger. Would she join him there after they married? Another anxious shiver followed the first. The breakfast room was her favorite because it overlooked the sea.
Each day she ventured farther, leaving the rounded walls of the castle which were shaped like the petals of a rose, and walked along a balustraded-walk leading to formal gardens to the north of the castle. Clipped yew hedges bordered the path. Bees buzzed among the roses along the sun-warmed stone walls, the majestic trees of the park in the distance.
Her wanderings always led her back to the foreshore. She began collecting interesting pieces of driftwood that took her fancy, and soon had quite a collection. It might have been the mild weather and the beauty of the place, but she began to feel more at home. Every day, the chef sent a kitchen maid to inquire if there was anything special she’d like for her supper. It surprised and touched her as she wasn’t yet the mistress of the house. After she sent Rebecca to the kitchens to relay her approval of the day’s meal, the menu became more elaborate. She supposed the chef appreciated having someone to cook for. And the footman, James, danced attendance on her. She must tell Robert what a treasure he was.
*
Robert arrived backin Curzon Street. And after a bath and a change of clothes, he left for dinner with friends. It was close to ten of the clock when he abandoned them at Whites where they wandered the gambling tables, planning to visit the theatre later and be entertained by opera dancers.
After the maid opened the door for him, he walked into Anastasia’s boudoir where she sat at her mirror.
He rested his hand on his mistress’s slender shoulder. She was applying a patch to her cheek. “You are going out?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to be back in London for some time, St Malin.”
“I wasn’t sure myself.” He eased himself into an uncomfortable chair with spindly guilt legs. “I’m here in London for a special license.”
Her eyes met his in the mirror. “You are marrying her then.”
“I have little choice in the matter. It’s what my uncle wished.”
She shrugged. “But your uncle’s wishes no longer matter, surely. What is she like, your fiancée?”
“An unaffected country girl.”
“How gauche.”
“Gauche? No, I wouldn’t say that.” He’d found Kate refreshingly intelligent but considered it imprudent to say so.
As Anastasia rose from the chair, her wrap parted to reveal a long, slim naked thigh. Robert cast an admiring glance over her flowing, fair hair and graceful slender body, which the silk wrap barely covered. Her likeness to his first love, Millicent Borrowdale, struck him again.
She stepped close and ran a hand over his chest. “Is she pretty?”
“I don’t intend to discuss my future wife with you.”
“No?” Her hand moved lower. It reached its destination, and his cock tightened under her practiced touch.
She smiled, her eyes filled with anticipation. “Can she do what I can do for you?”
“I very much doubt it.” Robert picked her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. “We shall go on much as we did before, shall we not?”
“If you wish it?”
He stripped off her robe and bent to kiss a breast. “Oh, I do. I do wish it.”
