one-way ticket. He can go to Australia or New Zealand. Anywhere, but here in the UK.” The hall clock chimed six times. Dinner would be ready. “He’ll take the offer I’m sure.”
She drank her wine in one long gulp. “Thank you, Henry. You’re a good man and I love you dearly. I’ve been so selfish and I’m so ashamed.” She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, grateful beyond explanation.
“Nonsense, my love. Mortlock instigated this fairy dust issue and I did warn him. I told him I would ruin him if he hurt you.” He held her at arm’s length, his gaze mirroring the love deep within her heart. “We can reinstate our arrangements with the Brighton Establishment whenever you want.”
She smiled at her old darling, knowing his heart was too big for his own good.
“Not for a while, Henry.” She held out her glass for another. “Can we tell Bassett we don’t want dinner after all? Would Mrs Bassett be offended? I’d rather go to bed with you, Henry…now.”
“Oh, darling. I’ll just tell Bassett that we’ll eat later. They can go home.”
She watched him as he hurried towards the kitchen and thought how it’d been a win-win situation all round, except for Christopher Mortlock, but with his talents he’d surely find his way in the world, out there in the colonies.
The only small concern she had was the noticeable swelling of her breasts and the darkening of her nipples. Could Mortlock have left her and Henry a farewell present? Could he have succeeded in the one area where Henry and she had failed in all the years of their marriage? A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she remembered how Henry often said Mortlock certainly had the knack of getting seeds to germinate.
* * * *
Wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs entwined, noses almost touching, their breath mingling, they enjoyed the afterglow of sexual satisfaction.
“So you think you might be with child, Helen?”
Dear Henry, such an old fashioned expression . “Yes, I think I must be. A doctor’s visit will confirm it, but yes, I think I am. Do you mind?”
“What? After all the years we’ve tried, not one jot do I mind. It’s probably Mortlock’s, but it could be mine. It doesn’t matter, Helen, it’ll be ours. An autumn lamb for the Montrose’s, I can hear society muttering already.” He chuckled.
“Do you want a son and heir, Henry?”
“Not really, I’d rather have a daughter, the mirror image of her mother.”
She stroked his face, running her fingers down his jawline and kissed the tip of his nose. “I do love you so, Lord Montrose.”
“And I love you too, Helen. My lady, my rose.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
In Service to the Senses
Demelza Hart
Excerpt
Chapter One
Yorkshire, August 1910
The kitchen of Foresham Hall, furnishings, pots and all, seemed itself to be drooping in the incessant heat. With preparations underway for lunch and the August sun shining in, even if only through the narrow windows, it was almost unbearable. Mrs Brodie, normally so in control of her kitchen, was in a state of considerable agitation about the jellies not setting, her dimpled arms glistening with sweat as she flapped about. The kitchen maid sat dejectedly, fanning herself madly with the London Illustrated News, the lettuce she was supposed to be washing left to wilt before her. Mr Brewer, butler, had given them no respite from their tasks, despite the torpor that pervaded their limbs in this weather. Even little Billy, bubbliest of them all, frowned with discomfort as he polished his boots.
Edward alone was still and silent. The silver hairbrush placed before him was in need of a good polish, but he sat with one long, strong leg crossed over the other, leaning back in his chair, his mind elsewhere.
Edward Marham, valet to Lord Reginald Fortescue, sixth Earl of Atherton, was distracted for reasons other than the heat.
She drank her wine in one long gulp. “Thank you, Henry. You’re a good man and I love you dearly. I’ve been so selfish and I’m so ashamed.” She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, grateful beyond explanation.
“Nonsense, my love. Mortlock instigated this fairy dust issue and I did warn him. I told him I would ruin him if he hurt you.” He held her at arm’s length, his gaze mirroring the love deep within her heart. “We can reinstate our arrangements with the Brighton Establishment whenever you want.”
She smiled at her old darling, knowing his heart was too big for his own good.
“Not for a while, Henry.” She held out her glass for another. “Can we tell Bassett we don’t want dinner after all? Would Mrs Bassett be offended? I’d rather go to bed with you, Henry…now.”
“Oh, darling. I’ll just tell Bassett that we’ll eat later. They can go home.”
She watched him as he hurried towards the kitchen and thought how it’d been a win-win situation all round, except for Christopher Mortlock, but with his talents he’d surely find his way in the world, out there in the colonies.
The only small concern she had was the noticeable swelling of her breasts and the darkening of her nipples. Could Mortlock have left her and Henry a farewell present? Could he have succeeded in the one area where Henry and she had failed in all the years of their marriage? A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she remembered how Henry often said Mortlock certainly had the knack of getting seeds to germinate.
* * * *
Wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs entwined, noses almost touching, their breath mingling, they enjoyed the afterglow of sexual satisfaction.
“So you think you might be with child, Helen?”
Dear Henry, such an old fashioned expression . “Yes, I think I must be. A doctor’s visit will confirm it, but yes, I think I am. Do you mind?”
“What? After all the years we’ve tried, not one jot do I mind. It’s probably Mortlock’s, but it could be mine. It doesn’t matter, Helen, it’ll be ours. An autumn lamb for the Montrose’s, I can hear society muttering already.” He chuckled.
“Do you want a son and heir, Henry?”
“Not really, I’d rather have a daughter, the mirror image of her mother.”
She stroked his face, running her fingers down his jawline and kissed the tip of his nose. “I do love you so, Lord Montrose.”
“And I love you too, Helen. My lady, my rose.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
In Service to the Senses
Demelza Hart
Excerpt
Chapter One
Yorkshire, August 1910
The kitchen of Foresham Hall, furnishings, pots and all, seemed itself to be drooping in the incessant heat. With preparations underway for lunch and the August sun shining in, even if only through the narrow windows, it was almost unbearable. Mrs Brodie, normally so in control of her kitchen, was in a state of considerable agitation about the jellies not setting, her dimpled arms glistening with sweat as she flapped about. The kitchen maid sat dejectedly, fanning herself madly with the London Illustrated News, the lettuce she was supposed to be washing left to wilt before her. Mr Brewer, butler, had given them no respite from their tasks, despite the torpor that pervaded their limbs in this weather. Even little Billy, bubbliest of them all, frowned with discomfort as he polished his boots.
Edward alone was still and silent. The silver hairbrush placed before him was in need of a good polish, but he sat with one long, strong leg crossed over the other, leaning back in his chair, his mind elsewhere.
Edward Marham, valet to Lord Reginald Fortescue, sixth Earl of Atherton, was distracted for reasons other than the heat.
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