was very forward of you."
Knowing it was true only made Olympia more defensive. "He wasn't at home to me," she lied. "And it was not in the way of a social call at all. I think everyone in the neighborhood should pay him their respects, and I don't see anything 'forward' about being the first to do so. He is a very great hero."
Julia stroked the satin with her forefinger. "Yes, so they say. But it was most unbecoming of you to go alone to visit a bachelor, no matter how heroic. I hope you will avoid that mistake in the future."
Olympia felt herself turning crimson. "I only left my card."
"People will gossip about such things," Julia said. "You have the dignity of your position to consider."
"A pox on my position," Olympia cried. "It's good for nothing, to me or to anyone else."
A faint dry smile played at the comers of Julia's shapely mouth. "Nevertheless—" Her tone grew heavier. "You're not to call on Captain Drake alone again. I'll have your word on it."
Olympia raised her chin and inclined her head. "Very well," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I promise not to call on him at Hatherleigh Hall."
She didn't promise anything else.
"Thank you." Julia glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. "Now, I must go out this evening for an hour, if you have no need of me or the carriage."
Olympia nodded, folding the fabric. After Julia had left, she remained staring out the window at the ice-crusted banks of the river, with the silver satin folded over her arm.
It was a familiar view. She had stared at it for twenty-four years.
Sometimes she wished she could offer her royal diadem to Julia, who would have made a much better princess anyway.
Three
----
Sheridan lay propped up on his elbow in the shadowy depths of his father's bed, watching the woman who had been his father's mistress for as long as he could remember. She tilted her chin, rebuttoning the last button at her throat and adjusting the tiny bows on her demure bodice in an elegant whore's gesture.
"Julia," he said lazily. "Charming as ever." He lay back, locking his hands behind his head. The chill air cooled him, playing over the perspiration on his chest and arms. He eyed the modest dress and virtuously simple hairstyle. "A true credit to Christian womanhood."
The single candle caught purple highlights in her black satin dress. She leaned near, tracing her forefinger around his mouth. Sheridan allowed his lips to part, tasting the salty tang of arousal and satisfaction that lingered on her hand. He stirred, turning toward her to catch her wrist, kissing the cup of her palm.
She pulled her hand away.
He dropped his head back with a sigh. "So," he said flatly. "Now we come to the point, do we?"
She drew her finger down the side of his face and jaw, ending in a light circling tease on his chest. He pushed her hand off and locked it in his fist.
"My dear," he murmured. "Let's omit the second round of compliments for the moment. Just what is it you want from me?"
"Sheridan," she said huskily, raising their entwined arms and caressing his hand with her lips as if his hard grip on her were only a fondling hold.
"Looking to take up residence again?" He let her kiss the back of his hand. When she met his eyes, he deliberately ran an assessing look up and down her splendid figure. "I can't say you haven't got talent and experience, and you appear to have aged remarkably well. How old are you?"
Heat flashed in her eyes. She lowered her lashes and bit him lightly on the side of his palm.
Sheridan set, led back and looked up at the canopy with a faint derisive smile. "I couldn't have been much under six years old when my father set you up for his doxy. You were no infant then, and that was nigh on three decades ago. How many years do you have on me? Eighteen? Twenty?" He pulled his hand away easily. "Sorry, m'love, the position's open, but I'm only considering applicants with a reasonable number of working years left in 'em."
"You're a bastard," she
Knowing it was true only made Olympia more defensive. "He wasn't at home to me," she lied. "And it was not in the way of a social call at all. I think everyone in the neighborhood should pay him their respects, and I don't see anything 'forward' about being the first to do so. He is a very great hero."
Julia stroked the satin with her forefinger. "Yes, so they say. But it was most unbecoming of you to go alone to visit a bachelor, no matter how heroic. I hope you will avoid that mistake in the future."
Olympia felt herself turning crimson. "I only left my card."
"People will gossip about such things," Julia said. "You have the dignity of your position to consider."
"A pox on my position," Olympia cried. "It's good for nothing, to me or to anyone else."
A faint dry smile played at the comers of Julia's shapely mouth. "Nevertheless—" Her tone grew heavier. "You're not to call on Captain Drake alone again. I'll have your word on it."
Olympia raised her chin and inclined her head. "Very well," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I promise not to call on him at Hatherleigh Hall."
She didn't promise anything else.
"Thank you." Julia glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. "Now, I must go out this evening for an hour, if you have no need of me or the carriage."
Olympia nodded, folding the fabric. After Julia had left, she remained staring out the window at the ice-crusted banks of the river, with the silver satin folded over her arm.
It was a familiar view. She had stared at it for twenty-four years.
Sometimes she wished she could offer her royal diadem to Julia, who would have made a much better princess anyway.
Three
----
Sheridan lay propped up on his elbow in the shadowy depths of his father's bed, watching the woman who had been his father's mistress for as long as he could remember. She tilted her chin, rebuttoning the last button at her throat and adjusting the tiny bows on her demure bodice in an elegant whore's gesture.
"Julia," he said lazily. "Charming as ever." He lay back, locking his hands behind his head. The chill air cooled him, playing over the perspiration on his chest and arms. He eyed the modest dress and virtuously simple hairstyle. "A true credit to Christian womanhood."
The single candle caught purple highlights in her black satin dress. She leaned near, tracing her forefinger around his mouth. Sheridan allowed his lips to part, tasting the salty tang of arousal and satisfaction that lingered on her hand. He stirred, turning toward her to catch her wrist, kissing the cup of her palm.
She pulled her hand away.
He dropped his head back with a sigh. "So," he said flatly. "Now we come to the point, do we?"
She drew her finger down the side of his face and jaw, ending in a light circling tease on his chest. He pushed her hand off and locked it in his fist.
"My dear," he murmured. "Let's omit the second round of compliments for the moment. Just what is it you want from me?"
"Sheridan," she said huskily, raising their entwined arms and caressing his hand with her lips as if his hard grip on her were only a fondling hold.
"Looking to take up residence again?" He let her kiss the back of his hand. When she met his eyes, he deliberately ran an assessing look up and down her splendid figure. "I can't say you haven't got talent and experience, and you appear to have aged remarkably well. How old are you?"
Heat flashed in her eyes. She lowered her lashes and bit him lightly on the side of his palm.
Sheridan set, led back and looked up at the canopy with a faint derisive smile. "I couldn't have been much under six years old when my father set you up for his doxy. You were no infant then, and that was nigh on three decades ago. How many years do you have on me? Eighteen? Twenty?" He pulled his hand away easily. "Sorry, m'love, the position's open, but I'm only considering applicants with a reasonable number of working years left in 'em."
"You're a bastard," she
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