“Aye, Roland Rutherford.” His name was honey on her tongue. “I’ll have you, sir, if you’ll have me.”
Wells felt lighter somehow, his feet less heavy upon the flagstone corridor as he went in search of his steward. His head was filled with fewer details and detritus. He’d left his bed content this morning, his new mistress at last more balm than adversary. She was quite delicious, really—perfectly suited to friggingandto keeping house. He nearly laughed, for isn’t that what a man wanted in a wife? Yet he hadn’t had to marry her to get it, he’d simply taken her—better yet! He pictured his mistress as he’d just left her: tousled and tangled in the sheets, so thoroughly fucked she’d looked wanton and spent and . . . God, he wished to go back and have her again.
And why not?he thought to himself. He’d find her later today, and again have his way. Wells whistled a little tune under his breath.
Charles wondered if she weren’t in for a reckoning with Lord Wellesley, because he’d suddenly become altogether too tempting; she didn’t know quite how to handle or resist him anymore. How she’d gone from hating the man to now wanting the man in little under a fortnight worried her. Much.
He was becoming all too human. She wished almost he’d not told her his name. She wished almost he’d remained cruel.He might yet, a voice inside her warned. He might hurt her again. He likely would. Only she wished to enjoy him too, now that he’d ignited her senses. She felt so blissfully aware of not only the pleasures of sex but of everything around her, as if the world had grown colors once more. She felt renewed purpose in her job, even in being his mistress. Or was it not joy but relief she felt? No, itwasjoy—joy in such pleasures as she had discovered.
Charles’s thoughts shifted. She must write again to let Eleanor know she was well. She’d not tell her sister the particulars—she could never reveal the truth of her position here—but she could share her newfound sense of joy. And perhaps now that he might trust her more, Lord Wellesley would let her visit her family again. Perhaps he might even let her run errands in town without Cuthbert traipsing behind.
She would broach it with him carefully, for she would no longer flee, she knew this now with certainty. She would undertake to please Lord Wells, so long as he continued to please her. Charles smiled, thinkingRoland Rutherfordsuch a ridiculous, formal-sounding name, so ill-suited to him. She laughed, then promptly frowned. She ought to rein in her joy a little. It would not do for Almsdale’s housekeeper to appear flushed and flustered. She had a job to do—her other job aprivate matter between his lordship and her.Thosethoughts she’d keep to herself, locked up.
Charles made her way towards the sea room to spend her first hour there, in another place where she found joy. It had been so long since she’d felt joy that she suddenly overflowed with it, feeling it bubble up inside her.
Her step upon the flagstone now felt as surefooted as it felt light.
“Yer Grace.” John caught up with his lordship just as he was leaving the Abbey. “I’m headed to the Merrinans if y’ wish t’ join me, sir.”
“Right.” Lord Wells stopped short. “The father and sister. It shall have to wait, Cuthbert; I’m late enough in speaking with Adams. But give them my regards. No.” He paused. “Invite them here next week, once our new cook has settled in. It will give her a dinner to plan, that I might see how well she serves guests.”
John swallowed. “Sir, y’ can’t mean to . . . That is, I don’t think the Merrinans would accept the invitation. Tea at most, but t’ dine with Yer Grace, well, it weren’t seemly.”
“And why?” Wells frowned. “Are they not people too, John? You said yourself Miss Merrinan’s sister is quite the proper lady. It is not as if I am formally entertaining either. The Abbey could not accommodate guests even if I so wished. I thought merely to allow Charles’s family to see that she is cared for here.”
John’s mouth formed a line. “I’m sorry, Yer Grace, but it were better y’ visited them instead. Her old man’s not right in the head. He’s muddled with age and confuses things outright. Who knows how he’d react t’ bein’ in a strange house, far from home.”
Wellesley’s frown deepened. “The Abbey is not far from the man’s home, John, not if the fellow grew up here.” His lordship searched John’s face before capitulating. “Fine then, I shall pay them a visit instead. Now off with you. And I’ll need you later at stonework. We are still short men.”
John left his lordship heading to the south wall, thinking Wells was a might more interested in his mistress’s family than he ought to be.
Then again,hewas a might more interested in Miss Eleanor himself.
“He wishes to . . . You mean he . . . ?” Eleanor Merrinan sat down, distraught, leaving John to fear the lady might faint.
“Just t’ stop by, miss, sometime next week perhaps. No need t’ worry yerself about it.” He tried to reassure her.
“But he’s the Duke’s heir, Mr. Cuthbert, and we live in ahovel,” she cried, her distress only mounting. “He can’t see how we live. Charles would never allow it. Does she know of his intent?”
“Well, I don’t right know, miss,” John replied. “I spoke with Lord Wells only this morn ’bout it.”
“I shall pen her a note forthwith. Have you a minute to spare, sir? Come, seat yourself and eat. I’ll fetch you what is left.” And she made off for a plate before he’d even the chance to reply.
Once she’d placed food before him, John watched her scribble a note to her sister, one lock of hair curling across her face which she pushed back in irritation, only to have it fall forward again. With a snort she finally removed a hairpin and stuck the curl harshly back into place.
God how he wanted to touch her. She was so lovely it made him ache just to look at her.
“There,” she announced, folding the note into quarters. “If you would give this to my sister, sir, I should be most grateful.” She handed him the letter and then threw him a quick smile that was like sunbeams on a cloudy day.
“Happy to, miss.” He smiled back, shyly.
“Mr. Cuthbert do you think . . . ?” She hesitated. “Rather, would you say my sister is happily employed at the Abbey?” She looked at him most keenly.
“Well now”—he chewed his moustache a moment while worrying his hair with his hand—“I should think she’s settled in now. Looks quite smart in her new uniform, she does. And his lordship seems pleased with her, if that’s what y’ mean, miss.”
“Yes, yes.” Eleanor seemed flustered. “But is shehappy, Mr. Cuthbert?” Her large brown eyes pooled up at him till he thought he’d puddle right there into the floor.
“Oi, gel,” he got out gruffly, “are any of us really happy?” He abruptly stood to leave. “I thank you for the breakfast, Miss Eleanor, and will deliver yer sister yer note.”
