As forbehavinglike a lady . . . She cringed at the thought of her dear Mama gazing down at her firstborn daughter’s deplorable state: indecently dressed in some depraved lord’s castle, awaking naked this morning in said lord’s bed. Charles flushed to think she’d cravenly kissed the very man hell bent on debauching her. How could she have been so brazen? More importantly,whyhad she done it?
It had surely been a mere physical response to a virile male body, akin to an animal’s urge to mate. And she’d make damn sure it did not happen again.
She was still rummaging about as she pondered her own carnal urges, opening one empty cupboard after another, when she froze, sensing a presence in the room.
“Hello, Charles,” his lordship greeted, making her quickly spin about. “I’ve arrived for a taste, timed it perfectly I see.”
“My lord.” She curtsied, aware of the effect this had on his lordship, for she was now cinched into shape below the loose fabric of his shirt, her stays pushing her breasts up and out. “I cannot find butter, sir.” She returned to her rummaging, bending to search lower. “Nor do I spy any jam. May I ask what you and your men have been living on?”
“Stew,” he spat the word with distaste. “Meat stew, night after night. But if it’s the price to pay to escape London’sTonby God I’ll pay it.”
“And what, pray, is so terrible about London that has you fleeing to Cumberland, my lord?” She glanced up at him.
“None of your blasted business, woman.”
Charles was reminded to watch her tongue. “Forgive me, my lord, I shan’t mention London again.”
“Don’t,” he said forcefully, then took up a knife to begin slicing into her loaf. “The butter’s up high, by the way, far left cupboard. Have to hide it from Cuthbert, who eats it by the block, the brute. You are not to tell him or any man here where it’s kept, else I won’t share with you, either.”
She was surprised by his shift in tone and even more surprised when he winked, making her smile shyly in response before she climbed atop a chair, found the hidden stash, and brought it to him.
Lord Wells buttered them each a slice before he took his first bite, his handsome face at once suffused with pleasure. A sigh escaped Charles’s lips as butter hit her tongue too. She closed her eyes in deep satisfaction while she chewed, and when she opened them, she caught him watching her, their eyes connecting for a second before she wrenched her gaze away.
“Heaven, is it not, Charles?” he told her softly. “After weeks of stew, to indulge in a loaf of bread is nothing short of bliss, I admit.” He stared at her again. “I may not miss London, but I do miss her food.”
“Cumberland is a far cry from London I’m sure, my lord, but nothing beats fresh bread and butter. To taste butter again is divine.”
“Have you gone long without?” He frowned. “I shall send some to your family.”
“Thank you, my lord. My father and sister would be grateful for any provisions you can spare.”
“Have you other family nearby they may depend on?”
“None, sir. But a neighbor, Mrs. Saunders, lives not far. My sister will manage if there is food this winter. She might trade for peat then; the Saunders’ son will deliver it, ensuring she and our father don’t freeze.”
His brow furrowed deeper. “Should we not simply move them to the Abbey instead?”
“What?” Charles was horrified. “No. No, of course not!”
He remained puzzled. “But you say they will freeze, and as I told you I’d ensure your family is cared for, it seems easier to keep them here than to?—”
“They must never know why I am here, my lord,” Charles implored. “I don’t know what your man told them this morning when he . . .” She took a breath to slow her racing heart. “It would kill them to discover how low I have fallen.”
***
“You have not fallen low,” Wells snapped, irritated by this recurring theme of hers and its annoying ability to engender guilt. “There is no shame in being a man’s mistress. If anything it is a coveted position for a woman who?—”
“Of course,Your Grace.” She insulted him again. “For a woman who works for a living it is no doubt a coveted position. But not for a lady of class.” Her nostrils flared. “I know what you think of me, Lord Wellesley, but my father and sister do not share your estimation; I’d prefer they continue to esteem my virtue.”
He peered more closely at her, realizing he’d need to rein in his new mistress’s continued abuse of title, lest she follow hisown men’s conduct and become equally insufferable. Only how to convince Cuthbert and crew to give up the joke? He would work that out later. Not now.
“You’re not like the other villagers, are you?” he asked instead, his words more statement than question.
She remained silent.
“Yet you consider yourself a native.”
“I am, sir. Cumberland born and raised.”
