Carnal Pleasures (22 page)

“And?”

“I joined the King’s army to get away from my father’s influence.”

“Whether you no longer care or not, the war with Bonaparte and the French is still going on, Mr. Spencer, quite vigorously. I note that you no longer wear a uniform.”

Griff noticed, too, that his uncle’s demeanor had cooled considerably, that and because of his wife’s instructions. His tone wasn’t friendly, nor did he use Griff’s given name.

“I seemed to recall having read the Spencer name in a brief report a short while ago,” his uncle said, running a fingertip along his thick moustache and fussing with it to groom it. “Are you the Spencer from Wellington’s force on the Peninsula? Were you wounded?” He eyed Griff, coldly. “You look well enough,” Burlington said, appraising Griff’s manly physique beneath his civilian clothing.

The truth was becoming extremely difficult for Griff to confess. He’d been through a difficult encounter of soul-searching once today. Did he now have to bare his soul again to his uncle and the rest of his family to gain acceptance? Would doing so mitigate his former disgrace? He didn’t think so. Not if his uncle knew about his current connection with the countess. As many pitched battles as he had suffered through in the Peninsula—the pestilence, heat, and gore—facing his stern-faced uncle this evening, he was deathly afraid. He couldn’t allow himself to unburden himself fully until he squared himself with Whitehall.

“No, sir, I sold out of the army less than a month ago.” He would never actually state his reason nor the fact that he had been booted out of the army. “But—but I plan to re-enlist.”

What in blazes am I thinking to make such a stupid promise, allowing the words to jump out of my mouth? I hate the army. I hate the Peninsula. I want nothing more to do with war and fighting, but here I am, like an idiot, pledging to return to Wellington’s army—and possibly, die, facing the French. God help me!

“I see. Well, then, when must you go back?”

“I’m not absolutely certain. But I hope it will be soon.”

Maybe I’ll be fortunate, and they won’t accept me at Whitehall.

“I have an appointment at Whitehall tomorrow, sir.”

God, I’m digging myself deeper and deeper into this tacky spider web of lies, ain’t I? Do I truly mean to re-enlist?

“My boy, I shall tell my wife you have changed. ‘Twas your mother’s family who banished you, Griffith, not me, since we never met. I’ll take your word for it, and stand up for you, now that I hear your renewed intention to fight for England against the Corsican devil. See if I don’t. We’re in need of more brave men to defeat the damn Frogs.” Burlington reached over and lightly gripped Griff’s shoulder. “Come now, have supper with us and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“No, sir, I think not, but thank you, Uncle, for sticking by me.”

The men shook hands.

Leaving word with a footman to alert Rand, Griff left the ball. He felt the cool night air, his gut still churned with nervous energy. Instead of hailing a hackney, he decided to walk back to Eberley House. His impetuous decision about re-enlisting galloped around in his brain during the hour’s walk along the Mayfair streets. He would take the funds he had squirreled away from Agina and buy another commission. Tonight, having made up his mind during the walk, he could get a good night’s rest. It might be his last for a long time hence; or it might mean joining an unending sleep like so many others when he returned to the Peninsula.

* * * *

Dulcie lay wide awake. No sounds emanated from anywhere on the second storey. Her stepmother had ordered a supper tray in her bedchamber, and Dulcie asked for the same, since it would be depressing sitting at table alone without, at least, Griff sharing it. She had wandered through the lower level to her father’s study before suppertime and brought a book with her to read, but unfortunately, she couldn’t concentrate. Rambling thoughts tumbled through her head long after her earlier conversation with Griff Spencer.

After she ate, Dulcie decided to speak to her stepmother. When she was allowed into her stepmother’s bedchamber, she found Agina being treated for a headache, watching Emma Trent placing wet cloths on the countess’s forehead.

“Mother, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Dulcie began. “I simply wanted you to know that I am going ahead with your wishes and am betrothed to Griffith Spencer.”

“It’s about time you listened to me, Dulcina,” the countess replied through tightened lips. “I expect you to be wed very soon.”

“No, since I’m forced to wed, I want it done up in style. I want an extraordinary wedding, with all the lavish trimmings…”

“What? Are you dicked in the head, miss? Do you know what that will cost?”

The countess waved an entreating hand toward Trent. “Bring another cloth doused with lavender water, Trent. My stepdaughter has assaulted me with more silly demands to cut up my peace.”

“Of course, my lady.” Dulcie earned a swift frown from the lady’s maid who laid another cool, scented cloth gently on Agina’s furrowed brow.

“I’m certain, Mother, that my father left funds enough to give me a lovely wedding. If you will be good enough to let me read his will…”

“Arrgh! You ungrateful, impudent chit!” The countess sputtered her words at Dulcie in anger, her shoulders lifting off the chaise “Read your father’s will? The earl’s solicitor explained everything to me. You needn’t read it. You’ve been well taken care of by me since your dear father expired. I’ve already spent hundreds on a fashionable wardrobe so you’re worthy enough to snare a husband. If I had known you were going to seduce my nephew, I may have saved the expense.”

Agina ran an agitated hand over the damp rag resting on her brow. “Your father asked me to find you a husband, Dulcina, and I planned to do so. Instead, you were bold and willful, and went ahead and acquired what you wanted on your own.”

Agina immediately threw out yet a questing hand to her lady’s maid. “Bring me a powerful headache potion, Trent,” the countess asked, not giving Dulcina a chance to reply. “My head is pounding after hearing the chit’s foolishness.” Turning her head, she glared at the girl. “Leave me now, Dulcina,” Agina snapped. “I don’t wish to see you again today.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Dulcina apologized. She was about to turn away and leave when the countess spoke again.

“You may think yourself a lady, Dulcina, but you are no longer ladylike nor chaste, so I caution you to behave and wed my nephew after the banns are announced for three weeks. There will be no exorbitant wedding plans, nor lavish expenditures. You may return to Bonne Vista with your husband and stay there forever, for all I care. I’m sure you will have no further need of fripperies when you’re rusticating in the country.”

Dulcie clamped her lips into a straight line and said no more. She spun away and left the countess’s chamber.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dulcie woke early the next morning. Subtle, half-dreams had taunted her during the night. The dreams seemed vivid enough to titillate, waking her and leaving her tense with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure. It was no use going back to sleep, so she dressed quickly to take Simon outside. Unexpectedly, she met Griff Spencer in the foyer.

“Shall we accompany Simon on his walk together?” he asked as she came down staircase.

She nodded. As always, Simon was glad to see Griff, his tail swinging wildly.

“Give me a moment, and I’ll get my hat,” Griff said after patting the dog.

She watched Griff take two steps at a time up the stairs. She couldn’t help but admire his agility and strength. In her dreams last night she envisioned him naked, hovering over her in his bed while he made ardent love to her. The bronzed skin on his chest glowed with warm, male flesh. Gleaming, golden, chest hair reflected flames in the fireplace. Without his clothes, she was reminded of a sketch of a beautiful, marble statue she had seen in one of her father’s tomes about Greece.

The “other” night was difficult to remember. She had a slight inkling that Griff wore a shirt, but no waistcoat or jacket. She wasn’t certain if he had even removed his boots! She had been in a state of semi-unconsciousness—so many things happening inside of her and out—all at once. She recalled clinging to him in panic when he tried to calm her, embracing her with what seemed tenderness and slow caresses. Then she had lunged at him, grabbing his mouth in a frenzy of uninhibited passion, and sucking on his lips until he plunged his hot tongue between her teeth. She could still remember his taste. He had kissed her back, powerfully, taking his time about it. Memories brought a flush of heat to Dulcie’s cheeks while she waited in the foyer for Griff to join them.

Griff’s leather boots tapped down the polished stairs to meet them. She noticed his jaunty way of walking had a lively spring to it, and he always seemed to be smiling whenever they met. Dulcie found herself assessing the man who was now her fiancé, or in reality, her soon-to-be-husband, unless they discovered a way out of their dilemma.

Griff gripped Simon’s leash as a footman opened the door for the trio. She advised Joshua they were out for a short walk but would be back for breakfast.

Griff asked him to notify the cook. “I daresay a breath of fresh air will give us a hearty appetite.”

Pausing at the bottom of the entrance steps, Griff asked Dulcie, “Are you feeling better today? No leftover trembles or twitches?” His gaze was warm on her face

“Much better, thank you, Griff. I seem to be rid of the heebie-jebbies from the other night,” she replied meeting his eyes. “And you?”

“I’m fine.”

He said he was fine, but she noticed something new hiding behind his expression. Was it because they agreed to their engagement? It was his idea, not hers, so why should he feel any remorse? They didn’t plan to play it out in full. There had to be a way to wiggle out of the messy situation.

At that moment Simon tugged on the leash hard enough that Griff and Dulcie had to follow where the dog’s sniffing and meandering took them. Their chitchat was civil as they walked side by side, mostly about the weather and goings on around the square. Dulcie smiled and spoke briefly to an older gentleman who tipped his top hat to them as he made his constitutional in the opposite direction to theirs.

“Do you always speak to people on the street whom you don’t know?” Griff asked.

She looked up at him in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I? Simon and I pass Mr. Walters almost every morning while out walking. Why shouldn’t I speak to him, be friendly, and pass the time of day with an elder gentleman?”

“I’m sure your stepmother would scold, never condone it.”

“Agina is nothing like my mother was, Griff. My mother was very open and adored people, that’s where I learned it.”

“Yes, I can see that. You were quite open with me.” He half smiled, a tiny leer creasing one corner of his lips.

Dulcie felt herself blush, aware of his subtle innuendo. “I suppose it is not quite proper behavior here in London. It is fine in the country where people are much more friendly. At least that’s what I believe.”

“Do you miss your mother?” Griff asked, jumping to a different topic.

“Oh yes, very much so.” Dulcie smiled up at him. “And my father, too. He was a dear man.”

Just then, Simon found a spot that interested him. They paused, turning their backs to give the dog some privacy.

“I remember that you wondered why your father married the countess. She is a haughty, overpowering woman, with a mind of her own. Was your father high in the instep?”

“I did wonder how they got together. Often. As for the earl being haughty? No, my father was just the opposite.”

Dulcie looked away and fastened her attention at the trees and the flowers starting to blossom in the park before continuing. “I suppose I should clarify that,” she began. “My father changed drastically after my mother died. She always said he used to be more…what shall I say? More at ease with his consequence as long as she was by his side, to help him face his responsibilities. My father inherited his title, you see, after he married. It was not what he expected. He was merely an “honorable.” His elder brother was the heir, but he died in his twenties, so my father became the Earl of Eberley. My mother told me it frightened him to death. All those responsibilities to the estate.”

Dulcie twirled one of the ribbons of her bonnet around an index finger as they strolled. “My parents were very close, always smiling and laughing when they were at Bonne Vista.” She glanced over at Griff, whose gray, crystal-clear gaze fastened on her as he listened closely.

In serious moments such as these, she saw something dark and rather painful lurking in the depths of his pupils. Obviously, he wasn’t a total stranger to pain and misery, she wondered what caused it. He had never mentioned his parents to her. They must be dead. He was also closed-mouthed about the rest of his background. Now that she thought more on it, she knew nothing of consequence about him.

Nevertheless, as they walked she continued her own story. “That is where I grew up—in Surrey—at Bonne Vista. My parents kept me with them part of every day as a child growing up. I wasn’t relegated to the nursery with my nursemaid. Mother and Father were in love, and it showed, even when she became so ill. He was totally devastated and despondent when she expired. Perhaps later, he simply needed female company. I don’t know. Maybe then is why he changed so much. He went to London for the Season, and came home with a new wife.”

Dulcie frowned. “But why do you suppose in God’s good name that he choose Agina of all people?”

When Griff made no reply, Dulcie continued. “I fear the countess and I shall never get along. There is something about her that disturbed me right from the start, but…”

Dulcie had halted by one of the park’s benches. “I want nothing to do with marriage and a husband, no matter that she still insists we are to marry as soon as the banns are announced. But forgive me, Griff,” she said, “nor do I want anyone in my life who is simply interested in my wealth.”

Dulcie went on to tell him about her last encounter with her stepmother. “Agina returned my mother’s ring after I declared my intention to marry you after all.”