A Rose Between the Thornes (4 page)

Nat put his arm over his twin’s shoulder, smiling affably at the watch, who was looking at them warily. It was obvious he wondered if they were about to stir up trouble. “So true. However, with luck we will have no need of La Belle Carstairs for any reason. Cards can be played at the club, and if all goes to plan we will have more cunt and arse than we need, albeit only one of each.”

Jasper sniggered. “But that is two holes and two of us, so perfect, just perfect. Hell I am so stiff, I could snap if touched. Pray do not let us leave it too long before we bury ourselves into those perfect orifices. Tonight, I feel, has been our swan song, for now we are committed.”

“Pray our lady feels the same,” Nat said. “And is not merely prepared to only pay lip service to her debts and no more.”

“Well it will be up to us to ensure she wishes our ministrations to continue.” Jasper laughed. “When say you we begin our next stage? Before I take myself in hand and dream.”

“In three days, just long enough to ensure there are no possible problems with our plans,” Nat replied, as his cock swelled at the thought. “We have decided that. Was the brandy so potent you forgot something as important? If so ‘tis the first time it hasn’t been watered down.”
Jasper will not be the only person helping himself this night. I will have no option but to fist myself if I want to get any rest.

In perfect harmony they walked—or perhaps staggered was a better description—to the house they shared. As per their instructions, no staff awaited them. Instead, a candle and tinderbox were set on a side table to light their route upstairs.

“Why did we do it?” Jasper asked rhetorically. “The brandy does not improve with age, nor does the company. I fear we are growing old, and are past such entertainments as La Carstairs provides.”

Nat smiled as they reached the door to his bedchamber. “Well, now we have other fish to fry, and we can forget inferior brandy, light skirts, and poor as piss card players. Tomorrow I will start the quest.”

He left Jasper to continue along the corridor. As he closed his door he heard a crash and a scream followed by his twin’s stentorian tones.

“Collect your things and leave,” Jasper was commanding someone. “Now. Tell Champion I said so. My room, my body, my cock, none are for you.”

Nat smiled to himself. He had seen the maid’s eyes on them both over the past few weeks. Obviously not believing the diktat told to all staff, that wild as they may be—or had been, he amended silently—fucking the staff had never, and would never be on their agenda.

Noisy sobs echoed down the corridor. He made sure his door was firmly closed. Some people never learned. He had forgotten just how many staff had realized to their detriment, that dallying with the staff was not one of his or his twin’s personal preferences. His valet appeared from within his dressing room, and Nat stared.

“I thought I told you not to wait up?” he said, although with a grin. Tobbert would have checked if he had company first before appearing. “I can manage, you had no need. ‘Tis late and I am three parts cut. I will have a devilish head in the morning.”
And a shaft so stiff it could cut bread, hand-helped or not.
But he chose not to mention that tidbit.

“And I prefer not to leave your boots to the ministrations of a boot jack, my lord.” Tobbert, a stalwart servant, and one who had been with Nat since he was in the nursery, smiled. “And I believe Stimson waited for the viscount. Although I understand he slipped out for a few minutes to replenish the brandy.”

Nat laughed. “And that young maid slipped in to replenish something else?”

Tobbert bowed, a twinkle in his eyes. “As you say. I trust neither of you will be bothered from now on. Not now you have made certain arrangements.”

Nat stared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
How the hell had his valet got hold of such news, so fast?
It
was well known servants knew everything, but not usually so far in advance. Be that as it may, he swore sometimes the staff knew he had been laid even before he did. “What do you know of our arrangements, Tobbert?”

“Nothing concrete thus far, my lord, as I believe you have yet to set your plans in motion,” his valet said correctly. “However, I do know of a house that may be of interest to you both for this, ahem, endeavor whilst you are in town. In a quiet square not five minutes from here. Secluded, with two private entrances,” he paused. “I have taken the liberty of securing it for you.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed. Was the man a mind reader? He had often wondered. “When did you do this? We have but only decided the outcome of our activities mere hours ago.”

“Ah, but the chase has been on for several weeks now, and I have faith in your abilities,” Tobbert said with the familiarity of an old retainer.

“And you condone this, what you suspect we are about to do?” Nat was incredulous. Tobbert and Jasper’s valet Stimson would support them to the death, but this seemed unusual in the extreme.

Tobbert looked at him levelly. “I’ve known you for over thirty years, and I’ve steered you through more scrapes than I care to remember, my lord. The lady is truly that, a lady, and both Stimson and I feel she will be good for you both. It remains to be seen if you will be good for her. We can but trust you, and hope so.”

I should have remembered servants see all and know everything that happens.
“Tobby.” Nat used his childhood name for the man who had gladly followed him around Europe, curbed his excesses, and stopped him from acting on some of his more extreme ideas. “I can only do the same.” Nat’s reply was heartfelt. “So this house?”

“Ah yes, the house.”

Four hours later, he stood in his brother’s bedchamber and recounted the conversation that had ensured between him and his valet.

“And I believe ‘twill be perfect for us. I trust Tobbert—and Stimson—implicitly to know our needs, perhaps even more than we do. As I can’t imagine our lady will wish to come here,” he continued, “I think it could well be our answer.”

Jasper, newly washed and shaved, shrugged off his dressing gown and into his riding jacket, one of the few garments he needed no help with. Today he favored brown, Nathaniel blue. As they could easily exchange clothes, the color they wore was no help in deciding who was who.

“You could well be correct in your assumption,” Jas agreed as he checked his appearance in the looking glass. “Good for Tobbert; so do we visit the property? Arrange for furnishing? Or leave it to Tobbert?”

“We visit, see where we want our personal furnishings to go, and leave the rest in his and Stimson’s hands.” Nat laughed. “For only we know exactly how our furnishings should be placed. There is no point in rushing things. We have the new hunting lodge not two hours away, which is ready and waiting for us.”

Jasper nodded. “So we begin there?”

“We begin there.”

Jas grinned, a wicked evil grin, the sort that would set maidenly hearts aflutter, though excitement, or apprehension, depended on the lady in question. To Nat it merely reflected his own thoughts and anticipation. Surely the thrill of the chase almost compared to the thrill of coming in a hot, tight, willing cunt or arse?

“So you will set phase one in motion? As we discussed?”

Nat laughed and clapped his brother’s shoulder. “’Twill be my pleasure. In two days hence.”

***

Sophia sat at the breakfast table, Hermione next to her. Both ladies were perusing their post.

“Bother,” she said suddenly, waving a missive in her hands. “There is some problem at Midwood, I will need to go down.”

Hermione looked up from her own post, a smile of satisfaction on her lips. As both her men had been conspicuous in their absence these last few days, Sophia could only surmise the epistle was from them. “Do you wish me to accompany you?” Hermione enquired. “If so it could not happen until next week. Berry and Ran will be home tomorrow, and I am promised to Lady Magdalen’s this night.”

Sophia shook her head. “No need, my love, I’ll arrange to set off immediately and it seems I should plan to be away for a week or two. I will leave Blue here if I may? She is not a good traveler as you know and May or Jenkins will spoil her, as will you.” She put her letter down, and picked up her cup of chocolate, careful not to ask the question hovering on her lips. Had the watchdogs backed off? However, it seemed Hermione had understood for she smiled, her eyes showing sympathy.

“I will speak to them again,” she promised. “And ask them to temper their warning. Perhaps they will be more amenable when you return. Nevertheless, Aunt, you know them, if they feel it is not in your best interest, whatever you or I say, they will do nothing, except perhaps reiterate their threats. For we all decided nothing we do must reflect badly upon you.”

That, Sophia surmised gloomily, was what she feared. If she was honest, she knew the protection of those two gentlemen was beyond price. Although she felt well able to care for herself generally, the fact Berry and Ran were her champions did keep most rogues at a distance.

She had a fleeting thought regarding two specific rogues. It was to her surprise she had not heard from either gentlemen since loosing her bet three nights before. She did not imagine for one minute they had forgotten about it, or intended to let it slide; indeed, she rather assumed they were plotting and planning. Playing cat and mouse with her. Let them. She had other things to think about. To whit, a problem regarding, she squinted at the letter—the handwriting of her father, Lodden, seemed to have deteriorated—the wood, west, waste, wing, willow? There seemed to be some confusion, letters scored out written over and illegible. Whatever it was, her presence was requested at her earliest convenience, and required for, seminal, several, or seven weeks. Or something else? She had no idea.

“Ah well,” she said with a sigh. “As I have a need to repair to Midwood and see to this matter that requires my urgent presence there, retraction will happily wait until I return, hopefully not too far hence.” She thought briefly. “I will arrange to set out as soon as my carriage can be readied, stop on the way for luncheon, and I should arrive before dark.”

Hermione nodded. “Wish you I send word to Midwood to warn them of your arrival?”

Sophia shook her head. “No need. Lodden has said he has taken it upon himself to apprise the household staff of my impending visit. All will be ready.” She stood up. “I had better prepare.”

Her preparations took a severe jolt when her personal maid was nowhere to be found. On ringing the bell, which was answered by a flustered young tweeny, her query was answered with a despairing wail of, “Oh my lady, she has the toothache. Mrs. Jenkins has sent her to see Mr. Crawford, the dentist.”

Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, entered the room hard on the heels of the housemaid and dismissed her with a wave of the hand. “Now Milly, off you go. I’ll speak to her ladyship.” She waited until the young girl had left and turned to Sophia. “’Tis true my lady, I felt it best to send her immediately, she was in great pain. May I help?”

Sophia pondered. What should she do? “No,” she said decisively. Midwood was but a few hours drive, everything she needed was there, and there were maids aplenty to attend to her. She ignored the niggle at the back of her mind that it would be seen as scandalous if it became known she travelled alone. “No it is fine. If you could just ask for my carriage to be ready in one hour.” The housekeeper sniffed, but had more sense than to argue. Sophia was easy-going to a certain degree, but the staff knew if she made her mind up over anything, she did not change it.

“And,” Sophia added decisively. “I don’t expect you to relay this conversation to Lady Hermione. I will have my coachman, and a footman with me, and highwaymen are highly unlikely to accost me between here and Midwood, especially during the day. Once at Midwood, I will be well served.” She giggled inwardly as the housekeeper curtsied and left after an abortive attempt to persuade Sophia to allow someone to pack for her, opining that she couldn’t possibly set out without luggage. Sophia wondered what had caused her to utter the words “well served?” If only, she thought wistfully, if only.

Ah well, she had best prepare for her journey.

It took longer than the allotted hour before she was able to leave. First Sophia had to arrange for a message to apprise Hermione of her plans. Her niece had, as she often did, left the house to ride in the park. At last, after Sophia struggled to change into her travelling dress without help, she was able to set out on her way. Although nothing overtly unhelpful happened, Sophia suspected her delay was due to servants deliberately trying to ensure Hermione returned home. She felt they assumed Hermione would thus attempt to dissuade her from journeying alone.

To her annoyance, her coachman had been replaced by a new man, one recently employed, along with an assistant. When Sophia enquired where Glossop was, the reply had been vague. It seemed his mother had taken a turn and he and his younger brother who normally drove her coach together were sent home to attend her.

Why have all my servants deserted me? Is it bad luck?

However, some luck was on her side and at last the coach began its journey northward through the busy streets of London. To Sophia’s relief, there had been no sign of her niece. Sophia knew quite well Hermione would not be easy at her unaccompanied travels.

With a wriggle of pleasure, Sophia sat back in the soft, comfortable seat and sighed with satisfaction as she realized how nice it was to be alone for once. Something that was unusual in the busy season. She loved Hermione with all her heart, but there came a point when playing chaperone—decoy, call it what you will—wore her out. Her mind registered with a sudden jolt how much she was looking forward to a few days to herself, whatever the problems she may encounter.

Her lunch at The Spire, a pretty coaching inn, just over half way to her destination, was partaken in a private parlor. Well known to the host and his wife, Sophia lunched well, and dallied rather longer than she had intended. It was past three in the afternoon before she made her farewells and set off, knowing she would still arrive at her destination in daylight. Just.