tomorrow. Get Dobson for me will you?"
Standing was not easy for the Marquis, his legs weakened by years of disuse and he swayed a bit. David caught him and instead of steadying the older man, he pulled him into a hug. The Earl of Darlington hugged him back, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "Never mind Dobson, you can get me to my carriage, son."
David put a strong arm about his father's shoulders, guiding him to the cottage door. Laughing companionably, the pair made their slow way to the awaiting carriage. Aided by his son and Dobson—his personal aide—he got himself situated in the vehicle before he spoke again.
"David... there is something else I would say before I leave." He looked at his aide with a dismissive glance and the man backed away a respectable distance. "I have noticed a change in my young wife as of late... since your visits have begun, truth be known."
He hesitated, and then began again, and his words were not those he had planned to say. "She seems happier and well content. Whatever you've done... keep doing it. I would have her happy, even for a brief time. She is prepared to resume your visits, and expects you at nine."
"Thank you father. I shall." David stepped back and waved them away, his eyes tearing up once more.
"Damnation!" he barked aloud, startling a pair of robins so they took flight. "I am to old to be doing this."
Wiping the flow of tears, which now came easily and fully from his emotions, he walked into the cottage and prepared himself for the visit.
Chapter Five
~~
The following days passed in quiet evenness for Hannah. Her mornings were spent in the drawing room or the library, absorbing the education the Marquis gallantly provided for her. Her afternoons, pouring over the vast array of catalogues and dress material that had arrived from London with Madam La Crosse, the best dressmaker of the ton .
And then of course, there were her nights in the arms of her silent lover.
With each encounter, she grew less inhibited, less withheld from him. As a moth drawn to a flame, Hannah had come to depend on his touch, his gentleness and more and more she experienced the urgency of her body. An elusive desire for something more... something unnamed.
Each time he left her now, she was restless and unable to sleep for hours, her body humming with an aching need. It confounded her, for she knew that he had given her all and that she should seek more was unfathomable.
The following month, much to her disappointment, she began her monthly courses again. Taking courage in both hands, she went to convey the news to the Marquis, whose condition had weakened with each passing day. He had been so kind and she wanted above all things to tell him he had got an heir. Of course, it could be a girl, once she did conceive, but she refused to think of that.
.
* * * * *
.
The Marquis, fighting off the weakness of his age and infirmities, hung on stubbornly, showing no disappointment at the news. It was he, in fact, who consoled her , so down at the mouth was Hannah.
He went to see David every afternoon, leaving the ladies to their fashion plates and patterns, and with each visit he grew in knowledge of his son. He also grew in regrets that he had waited so long to know him, for he came to love David so much that he was overcome with the intensity of fatherhood.
With his other four sons, he had been often away, for in his youth he had spent much time in London, either pursuing a mistress or seeking a wife to replace one lost.
Three of his wives had died in childbed, or of the fever that followed, the fourth succumbing to cholera, along with the heir. Would that David had been born his heir, he often lamented. His consolation was the thought that David would provide the heir, and he must be content with that.
.
* * * * *
.
On the anniversary of the third month of David's visits, Hannah found a small bouquet of wild flowers stuck into a cracked vase from the cottage—though she could not
Standing was not easy for the Marquis, his legs weakened by years of disuse and he swayed a bit. David caught him and instead of steadying the older man, he pulled him into a hug. The Earl of Darlington hugged him back, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "Never mind Dobson, you can get me to my carriage, son."
David put a strong arm about his father's shoulders, guiding him to the cottage door. Laughing companionably, the pair made their slow way to the awaiting carriage. Aided by his son and Dobson—his personal aide—he got himself situated in the vehicle before he spoke again.
"David... there is something else I would say before I leave." He looked at his aide with a dismissive glance and the man backed away a respectable distance. "I have noticed a change in my young wife as of late... since your visits have begun, truth be known."
He hesitated, and then began again, and his words were not those he had planned to say. "She seems happier and well content. Whatever you've done... keep doing it. I would have her happy, even for a brief time. She is prepared to resume your visits, and expects you at nine."
"Thank you father. I shall." David stepped back and waved them away, his eyes tearing up once more.
"Damnation!" he barked aloud, startling a pair of robins so they took flight. "I am to old to be doing this."
Wiping the flow of tears, which now came easily and fully from his emotions, he walked into the cottage and prepared himself for the visit.
Chapter Five
~~
The following days passed in quiet evenness for Hannah. Her mornings were spent in the drawing room or the library, absorbing the education the Marquis gallantly provided for her. Her afternoons, pouring over the vast array of catalogues and dress material that had arrived from London with Madam La Crosse, the best dressmaker of the ton .
And then of course, there were her nights in the arms of her silent lover.
With each encounter, she grew less inhibited, less withheld from him. As a moth drawn to a flame, Hannah had come to depend on his touch, his gentleness and more and more she experienced the urgency of her body. An elusive desire for something more... something unnamed.
Each time he left her now, she was restless and unable to sleep for hours, her body humming with an aching need. It confounded her, for she knew that he had given her all and that she should seek more was unfathomable.
The following month, much to her disappointment, she began her monthly courses again. Taking courage in both hands, she went to convey the news to the Marquis, whose condition had weakened with each passing day. He had been so kind and she wanted above all things to tell him he had got an heir. Of course, it could be a girl, once she did conceive, but she refused to think of that.
.
* * * * *
.
The Marquis, fighting off the weakness of his age and infirmities, hung on stubbornly, showing no disappointment at the news. It was he, in fact, who consoled her , so down at the mouth was Hannah.
He went to see David every afternoon, leaving the ladies to their fashion plates and patterns, and with each visit he grew in knowledge of his son. He also grew in regrets that he had waited so long to know him, for he came to love David so much that he was overcome with the intensity of fatherhood.
With his other four sons, he had been often away, for in his youth he had spent much time in London, either pursuing a mistress or seeking a wife to replace one lost.
Three of his wives had died in childbed, or of the fever that followed, the fourth succumbing to cholera, along with the heir. Would that David had been born his heir, he often lamented. His consolation was the thought that David would provide the heir, and he must be content with that.
.
* * * * *
.
On the anniversary of the third month of David's visits, Hannah found a small bouquet of wild flowers stuck into a cracked vase from the cottage—though she could not
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