Carnal Pleasures (12 page)

Slowly, she shook herself awake, forcing her mind to function. She had no idea why her head throbbed, pain thumping hard against her temples. It must have been the wine, she surmised, reminded of how much she had drunk at last night’s supper. She vowed not to drink so much again.

Rolling off the mattress, Dulcie stood up, a little woozy, but steady enough on her feet to pour water from the ewer into a china bowl and splash her face with cool water. That helped. She removed her nightwear and donned the same underpinnings and gown she wore last evening. She must have been very tired, because she had tossed her clothes carelessly onto a chair without hanging them up. After she walked Simon, she would do a better job on her toilette, too.

The town house was quiet. Dulcie saw a footman standing at the front door even though it was still early. “Good morning, Joshua,” she said. “Simon and I are taking our constitutional.”

“I’ll be glad to accompany you, milady.”

“It is daylight, and we won’t be gone long. Don’t concern yourself.”

“Yes, milady.” He pulled open the heavy front door and let them pass through. Simon was anxious to relieve himself, and the pair hurried down the front steps.

Dulcie glanced toward the iron gates guarding the entrance of the gravel drive and decided to do a little exploring. With Simon at her side, she strolled onto a cobbled walkway that circled the perimeter of Portman Square. A small park, fitted with several benches, lay in its center. Backed by ornamental bushes and a larger span of tall trees, new growth of green grass sprouted. Just the place to give Simon some exercise, Dulcie thought, as she hurried to duck under the trees. She unhooked the dog’s leash, letting him snuffle and sniff while she waited for him to finish. She was sorry she hadn’t thought to bring his ball along. He loved to play fetch.

The Square was empty of pedestrians or carriages. The surrounding town houses were silent, although she heard a vendor shouting his wares outside of Eberley House shortly after she woke up. Dulcie sat on a convenient bench, eyes peeled on Simon’s wandering, calling to him once or twice to make certain he didn’t stray too far.

* * * *

Griff was awake early, too. He hadn’t slept well. He turned and tossed on his bed, his mind following one track or other for an hour or more before he fell asleep.

He was aroused to the point of pain after kissing and caressing Lady Dulcie.

His late evening talk with the countess gave him pause. He had played his cards as well as he could, pressuring her for sufficient funds to make an offer on his parent’s mortgaged estate. When he left the countess, he thought he got his way, but he wouldn’t know for sure until she handed him a draft written in his name.

Rather than lie in bed, Griff lunged up and yanked on shirt, breeches, and boots. He pulled the window coverings open and looked down at the square, seeing Lady Dulcie and her dog perambulating around the little park.

He wondered what she thought about the episode between them last eve. She had allowed his advances, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He assumed, being a virgin, she would have protested vehemently, but she didn’t. And, for a countrified mouse, she displayed an irresistible passion in her kisses. He wanted to keep kissing her for a long time before scooping her up in his arms and taking her to bed. He didn’t want to rush things; it was the only reason he hesitated, or he and his randy cock would have ravished her then and there.

To say goodnight, he had let her go with a chaste kiss on the forehead. He still wondered why she appealed to him at all. Most of his earliest amours were lushly endowed lightskirts with generous tits and rounded buttocks; they were in love with his lustiness when he was whoring about Town as an experienced libertine.

His recently besmirched honor had become a matter of pride. Being drummed out of the King’s army had stripped him of his self-esteem. He had never been a pervert or a catamite using young boys for sexual pleasure. The fact that he was wrongly accused galled him deeply. He meant to prove his self-worth, at least to his mother’s family. One way was to re-purchase his family’s ancestral home from the moneylenders who had acquired it and planned to auction it off to the highest bidder.

Lady Dulcina was his primary target, accessible because of her stepmother’s greedy schemes. The girl had the wealth he needed, plus the opportunity to clear his name and reputation with marriage into a noble family.

Against their wills, both she and he were under the control of the countess. Dulcie said she wasn’t interested in marriage. He believed marriage between them was inevitable unless they outfoxed the countess. Not that Lady Dulcina was his choice of a lifelong amour. Nevertheless, something about her grabbed his interest, poked him in the gut, and made her unforgettable.

* * * *

Footfalls clumping across the cobblestones alerted Dulcie. The tall figure striding toward her from the Eberley town house was Griff Spencer. She stood up when he reached her, wishing she wore an unwrinkled gown and had tamed her unbrushed tresses.

He must think I sleep in my clothes.

Seeing Griff, Simon bounded out of the trees and across the new grass to greet him, his tail wagging wildly.

“Whoa! Down boy!” He laughed, holding out his palms to the dog’s exuberant welcome. “And good morning to you, Dulcie. You’re out early,” he said, stopping in front of her as the dog pranced around his feet.

“Yes. Simon wanted his morning outing. I am usually out and about quite early. At least, I am when I am in the country. Which is mostly always,” she added as an afterthought.

Griff squatted on his heels to pat the dog’s head, fondling his ears gently, and talking to him. “That’s a good fellow.”

Simon’s brown eyes focused on Griff’s face, slobbering, while enjoying the man’s attention. Dulcie had a sudden, inexplicable thought that invaded her brain.

Just like me.

When he straightened, Griff was grinning. He had come outside without a jacket, only his trousers and waistcoat buttoned over his shirt. He had even left off his cravat. She noticed a small tuft of gold hair peeking above his shirt’s open placket. It curls, she thought, her eyes locked onto the width of his chest. Warmth settled low in her torso.

“It was my understanding, Dulcie, you weren’t to stray out of the town house’s grounds. Will the countess scold you for your misbehavior this morning?”

“Well,” she retorted, glancing up to meet his eyes. “If she does, Mr. Spencer, it won’t be the first time. I’ve felt the sharp edge of my stepmother’s tongue before now. But,” she said, “Simon and I haven’t been out here very long, so I don’t think my stepmother will discover us being naughty. From what I hear, she doesn’t open her eyes until noon.”

“Umm? You were rather naughty last evening though, weren’t you?” The glint in his silvery eyes pinned her gaze to his. “And my name is Griff. Please use it. Calling me Mr. Spencer sounds as if I am into my dotage. After all, we aren’t that far apart in age.”

She acknowledged use of his Christian name for the second time. “All right. I shall try to remember.”

She replied next to his other topic. “I believe my…unusual behavior was predicated on the amount of wine I drank,” she said. “Too much, I think. I won’t be so foolish again. My poor head feels as if it’s stuffed with horse feathers.”

Unconsciously, she rested an open palm against her forehead. “But if I did anything terribly improper, Mr. Spenc…er, Griff, believe me, it won’t happen again even if I don’t recall doing anything so awful.”

“Pity.” His one word reply was loaded with innuendo. His intense gaze fixed on Dulcie’s face, and he was bold enough to add, “I was hoping we could do it again.”

Her eyes snapped to meet his, and she felt herself blush. His reminder of what passed between them last evening flustered her and, at a loss of words, she said, “Er…I think I had better go back inside now.”

“You know, you’re very pretty when you color up,” Griff said, adding another masculine smile that curled her toes in her heavy boots. “I like it.”

Bending and clicking the leash to Simon’s collar, she clucked to the dog sitting on his haunches next to them on the walkway.

Griff reached to take the leash from her. “I’ll take him in for you.”

“If you wish,” she said and handed him the leash.

They walked side-by-side toward the mansion.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked.

“No.”

“Hungry?”

“A little,” she replied.

“Good. Why don’t we breakfast together? I hate to eat alone.”

Simon accompanied them to the morning room, and made himself comfortable underneath the table. The sideboard was filled with covered dishes containing eggs, kippers, sliced ham, broiled kidneys. Warm scones soaked up freshly churned butter. A pot of tea wrapped in a cozy and a silver coffeepot waited. Small jars of jellies and jams, plus a pot of honey and a covered sugar bowl sat on the table.

Griff waved the footman off. “Sit down, Dulcie,” he invited, pulling out a chair for her. “I’ll serve you.” He took a china plate and turned to the heavily carved, mahogany sideboard. “What would you like?”

When she told him, he filled her plate and put it down in front of her. He brought the teapot to the table. She poured one cup and glanced up at him.

“I prefer coffee in the morning,” he explained, and reached for the silver coffeepot and brought it to the table. He eased himself down at the head of the table with his loaded plate. Dulcie occupied the seat to his right, around the side of the table.

Dulcie pushed her spectacles up her nose, glancing at Griff from where she sat. The delicious aromas assailed her nostrils as she picked at the items on her dish. Her stomach was suddenly unruly. Queasiness rolled through her. The wine, she thought again, reminded by the overwhelming bout of overindulgence she suffered through last night. Dulcie took a few mouthfuls, chewed, and swallowed slowly, hoping she wouldn’t disgrace herself and toss up her accounts. She pushed away the unfinished food and bit off a piece of dry toast. She stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her hot tea and managed to ingest two cups.

Meanwhile, Griff filled his plate a second time.

Dulcie noticed the ironed copy of the
London Times
lying next to his place. He hadn’t picked it up or started to read it. Her father always read the morning paper at the breakfast table. Griff Spencer obviously was made differently. Either that, or he had no interest in what was in the news. Since she was now in London, Dulcie wanted to read about the goings on in the Metropolis and its
haut ton
. Perhaps she could grab the
Times
for herself when he left.

Griff seemed to down a prodigious amount of food. Feeling a little better with the toast finally lying quietly in her stomach, Dulcie regaled him with a few stories about her home in Surrey. None of their conversation, however, gave insight into details close to the heart. Dulcie was quite aware that she and Griff were polite strangers. His innuendoes earlier about a meeting between them last night embarrassed as well as confused her. She remembered very little clearly, believing that she left him soon after her stepmother went out, and she had retired to her room.

“You don’t remember me kissing you, Dulcie?” Griff asked suddenly.

“Kissing me? Oh my! Of course not. Why, that’s absurd. I believe you must have been in your cups, Mr. Spencer,” she said, arching an eyebrow. She pursed her lips slightly, thinking over his impertinent remark. “I allow, though, I may have been a bit tipsy. Perhaps that is the reason I woke up with this infernal headache.”

“You were foxed, Lady Dulcina,” he stated, unequivocally. “Nevertheless, you liked it when I kissed you.”

She continued adamantly that nothing of the sort took place. “You must have envisioned a fantasy,” she told him, her attention focusing on the china teapot. “We scarce know each other, Mr. Spencer. My stepmother would indeed ring a peal over my head should she learn I behaved in such a ragged manner.” Dulcie couldn’t meet his eyes, but she continued to dismiss his blatant bouncers.

“Men and women have kissed upon slighter acquaintance, Dulcie,” he replied. “I would like to spend more time with you.” His smile brightened. “Will you allow me to do so?”

Lord, he is quite the charmer and quite handsome,
Dulcie thought.

A flutter she couldn’t deny rippled through her. “Since we are semi-related because of my stepmother’s marriage to my father, I suppose it would be proper. I would like to get to know you better, too.”

When she smiled, he nodded in agreement. He hoped to captivate both her and her pocketbook. He didn’t think of himself a cad, without a gentleman’s honor, because he meant to do the right thing by her. So what if he were slightly self-serving? Wasn’t it the right of all males? He would woo her wariness away with charm and persistence. Even at an early age, he cozened any female he wanted if he put his mind to it.

It seemed odd to him, however, that she didn’t remember what went on between them. Her denial certainly dented his damaged ego. Two glasses of wine at supper shouldn’t obliterate her maidenly inhibitions. Had she drunk something more potent beforehand?

While they debated, Griff kept two things foremost in his mind: his meeting with the Westminster Bank holding the mortgage on his father’s estate, and his upcoming ravishment of Lady Dulcina.

Chapter Twelve

Dulcie excused herself along with Simon. Griff rose politely, then sat back down. He picked up the
London Times,
and scanned the headlines. Dulcie turned back over her shoulder, hoping to scoop up the newspaper for later, but he had it firmly in his grasp.

She and Simon arrived in her room while Marnie was making up the bed. Dulcie asked the maid to order hot water for a hip-bath. She sat quietly and waited, musing about her latest conversation with Griffith Spencer.

Agina’s nephew was very different from his aunt. Agina exuded a coarseness, a commonness. To Dulcie, her stepmother was unlike a lady, not at all like her real mother. Agina didn’t have the personal aura she should as a member of the peerage. She was extremely lovely to look at as compared to Dulcie’s mother who had been no beauty. Eloise Trayhern had been a true lady, with a generous nature. She displayed a calmness of gentility and warmth of soul. Everyone who knew Eloise loved her. Until she died, she had been happy and content to remain at Bonne Vista and tend her roses.