Page 24 of A Foolish Endeavor

“Others have control over you, do they?” She gave him a sassy smile.

Miles sighed and leaned back. “Well, my father is in control of our estate and makes most all of the decisions. I do assist him, of course, for I must learn all I can about managing Clayton House before I inherit. But, yes, I am not at liberty to do precisely what I wish, when I wish.”

“Ah, but that is at Clayton House. There are no such constraints here, I assure you.” She idly drew a finger along the rim of her glass, dipped it into the liquid, and raised it to her open mouth, inserted it, and slowly drew it out. Miles caught his breath.

“I am a gentleman, you realize,” he said in a voice that came out a tad on the hoarse side. “You can have no expectations from me outside of… this place.”

Daisy gave a small smile. “As far as anyone in Doddington is concerned, we do not even know each other well enough to speak.” She leaned forward, her eyes gazing intensely at him. Her voice dropped low. “Up the stairs, third door on the right. I’ll be waiting.” She winked and rose from the table, her hips swinging seductively as she walked to the staircase and, without a backwards glance to see if he would follow, climbed to the second story.

Miles sat a while, considering his options. He knew that if he followed her, it would not be the actions of a gentleman, but, he was so lonely. He had needs, after all. It would just be this once, he told himself. And who would ever know? She stated clearly that she would be the soul of discretion. Just this one time, he thought again, as if to convince himself.

Miles took another gulp of ale, then moved towards the stairs.

Miles spent a most enjoyable half-hour in the small, but clean, upstairs room with Daisy. By the time he knocked, then entered, she was already in the bed, naked and smiling up at him. He nearly lost his nerve, but just then, she licked her lips in such a manner that all thoughts except tasting those lips for himself vanished. He quickly shucked his clothes and jumped into the bed as she held the sheet up for him revealing her body. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him intimately, moaning slightly. Then she lay back, her expression one of complete invitation.

He took his time delighting in all parts of her plump figure—so different from the slight and small-bosomed Lavinia. Burying his face between Daisy’s large, full breasts, he thought he might climax at that very moment, but gained control to continue his lovemaking. He found Daisy quite an active participant, as well, using her mouth in a way Lavinia certainly never had done. It shocked him, but, oh—what a delight to have Daisy perform the novel act.

After he finished, they both lay back for a time, panting softly. Then, Daisy shocked him by taking his hand and placing it between her legs, moving it slowly up and down, then faster and more firmly. Her breath began to come more rapidly and, then, she cried out and gave a little spasm. The look of happiness on her face was another revelation to him. He had always thought Lavinia was satisfied with their lovemaking, but now he wondered if she took as much pleasure in it as Daisy clearly did. Such an expression had never crossed Lavinia’s face, of that he was certain.

Daisy turned to him with a smile that reminded him of a cat who has just polished off a dish of cream. “I thank you, sir, for a lovely romp.”

Miles stammered a reply. “You are welcome… I mean… I should… that is—my needs have certainly been met this afternoon, Daisy. I appreciate it.”

She gave a little snort, then said, “Pray, do not think I make a habit of this with any man who steps into the tavern and flirts with me. I am no slattern.”

“Oh, of course not—I am sure you are, well, quite a good sort of girl.”

“I am, in truth. As I said, what we do here stays between you and me. I shall not even raise my eyes to you should we pass in the street.”

“That is good of you.” Miles slipped out of the bed and pulled on his clothes. “Of course, I certainly do not expect a repeat performance. I am married and I love my wife, I assure you. I simply…” his voice trailed off a moment. “I simply had some needs just now. My son has been ill and my wife has been much occupied with his care, you see.”

“Oldest story in the land,” Daisy said. “When a man feels neglected, he seeks consolation elsewhere. No shame in it. Leastwise, not in my opinion. As for me, I should not say no to a repeat session in the future.”

Miles felt a sudden wash of shame as he buttoned his shirt. What had he done? Well, he would never let it happen again. Indeed, he would never set foot in The Queen’s Larder from here on, he silently vowed. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a half crown. He held it tightly in his fist for a moment, not knowing quite how to present it. To his surprise, she laughed.

“Just toss it on the table there, if you insist on paying me,” she said lazily. “I shan’t ask you for anything, as it would make me feel like a bad girl. I enjoyed it as much as you, but I am not one to refuse a nice bit of coin, either.” She sat up, not bothering to pull the sheet up to cover herself. “I will buy myself something pretty.”

Seeing her, Miles felt himself begin to lust again. Oh, Lord, he had to leave—now. He hurriedly glanced to make sure he had everything and gave her a nod as he put the half crown on the table. Was it even enough? Too much? No matter. It was the last time he would ever do this.

“Good bye, Daisy,” he said as he opened the door. “Likely, we will not meet like this again.”

As he closed it behind him, he thought he heard her softly laughing.

Chapter Nineteen

Lady Dorothea Gillingham took one last, critical look at the arrangements for the tea she was holding that afternoon for Gilbert and his friend. On one end of the long table placed along the side of the drawing room were the teacups and plates, while platters of delectable treats and pastries took up the remainder of space. Her best silver service was out. Well, not her very best, that was at Haverstone Estate, of course. Still, along with the linen and fine china, it all looked very nice, she felt.

She glanced around the room, satisfied with the new placement of the furniture. She had instructed footmen to bring in more chairs and move the existing pieces around to create small groupings for easy conversation. Fresh hot-house flowers were positioned throughout the drawing room, adding a bit of color. She was prepared to act as hostess but felt she would not have to work quite as hard to guide the topics as she would if it were a dinner party. Mostly, she would be using her time to introduce Gilbert and Carter to some of the better families in town. Dorothea was certain many of them would be holding dinners and card parties throughout the remainder of the Season, and they would be happy to include her, her brother, and the very amiable Mr. Milbourn, now that they knew of Gilbert’s connection to the Gillingham family.

She wished she had been able to learn more about this Mrs. Landry, whom Gilbert and Carter had asked be invited, but none of her close friends in town could tell her more than what Gilbert had already related: the Landrys had recently been elevated to the gentry and owned a fine estate in Cheshire. Oh, and the daughter was no beauty. That point had been made quite clearly by more than one acquaintance.

She heard more favorable reports about the heiress, Miss Diana Wells. Friends had described her as an extremely handsome young lady, with charming, genteel manners. Lady Denton expressed an opinion that Miss Wells would be engaged before the Season was over, although she had to admit that the young lady showed no particular preference for any young gentleman at this point. “Miss Wells steadfastly refuses to dance more than once with anyone, but then again, so many wish to dance with her, she is never forced to sit out a set, either,” she had reported. “Her aunt is quite pleasant, as well, and keeps a close eye on her niece.”

Dorothea had truly looked with anticipation to meeting Miss Wells, but had received a well-written, but polite, note declining the invitation to tea, pleading a prior engagement as an excuse. In contrast, Mrs. Landry’s acceptance arrived so quickly, Dorothea felt certain the lady must have been sitting at her desk, ink well open, pen at the ready, when the invitation was delivered.

“Dorothea, you have outdone yourself,” a familiar voice called her out of her reverie.

She turned to see Gilbert and Carter, both smiling happily at her. “I am pleased that you are pleased, brother. There should be sufficient food and drink for our guests.”