“I wish I could garner such enthusiasm for the Exchange,” Christian declared. When she was alone her thoughts turned to Cav. “I wonder if the young lout managed to crawl home last night.” She made her way upstairs and spoke to his valet.
“Yes, my lady. Lord Cavendish is still dead to the world. He seldom arises before ten.”
“So I’ve noticed,” she said dryly. She repaired to her bedchamber to change from her slippers and found Velvet’s note.
I beg your forgiveness for deceiving you, but feel I must escape from your grandson’s attentions. He came to my bed last night. He was both drunk and naked and his intentions were very clear. I know you think I should be capable of discouraging him, but I’ve had little experience in dealing with the opposite sex, and know I will be safe at Roehampton for a few days.
The sound of carriage wheels on the driveway made Christian glance through the window. She saw Velvet and Emma hurry toward the coach and was about to open the window and call down to stop them. Instead, she glanced down at the letter and began to laugh. Velvet was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. “How very delicious. I couldn’t have planned it better. She has no idea that Roehampton belongs to Greysteel Montgomery.” Christian wiped away tears of mirth. “Velvet, I warrant that you are in for a delightful surprise. Your experience in dealing with the opposite sex is about to expand and will no doubt provide you with enough worldly wisdom to add a few naughty notes to your journal!”
Chapter Seven
W
hen the carriage slowed to a crawl to enter the city gate, Velvet stuck her head out the window to speak to the driver. “We are not going to the Exchange, Davis. I want you to take us to Roehampton, please. The dowager countess knows about the change in plans.”
At least she will when she reads my letter.
Davis, quite used to the contrariness of the female gentry, drove along Bishopsgate and turned his horses onto Cannon Street, which widened into the Strand. He then took the road to Richmond until he arrived at Roehampton.
Velvet, luggage in hand, stepped from the coach and Emma followed. “Thank you so much, Davis.” She hesitated. “I don’t know when I will be returning to the London house.”
“Very good, mistress. As soon as I’ve wet my whistle, I’ll be on my way.” Davis headed to the back kitchen door.
Emma eyed the Elizabethan manor house with apprehension. “Will we be made welcome?”
“Oh, of course. Bertha Clegg, the housekeeper-cook, is the most comfortable woman in the world. Her husband, Alfred, takes care of the horses and the grounds. It’s the most charming house I’ve ever seen. I wish it were mine.”
When no one answered the front door, Velvet opened it and went in without hesitation. “Mrs. Clegg? Bertha?” They found her in the kitchen, pouring ale for Davis.
“Welcome back, Mistress Cavendish. Is her ladyship here?”
“No, Bertha. Her grandson is visiting, so she stayed in London. I’m here for at least a week. This is Emma.”
“I’ll go right up and furbish a couple of bedchambers.”
“No, no, we are quite capable of looking after ourselves.”
Velvet led the way upstairs and chose a large chamber whose windows overlooked the lake. “Emma, the view is breathtaking. I love everything about this house. Which room will you have?”
“I should go to the servants’ wing.”
“What nonsense! There are six large bedchambers up here.”
Emma chose a rear chamber over the kitchen. Beneath her window was an herb garden and another filled with every autumn vegetable from marrows to leeks. “I always took care of the kitchen gardens at Nottingham Castle,” Emma said with nostalgia.
They found sheets and towels in the linen press and made up the beds. Then Velvet unpacked her bag and hung her clothes in the wardrobe. She changed into her dark green riding dress and pulled on her boots. “As you guessed, I’m off to the stables.”
“Ask Mrs. Clegg if I can potter about the gardens, my love.”
Velvet laughed. “To each his own. Horses for me . . . tansy and marrows for you. I believe there is a fruit orchard too.”
At the stables, she greeted Mr. Clegg. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me, Alfred. I’m visiting for at least a week and intend to ride every single day. I can saddle my own mare and promise to give her a rubdown when I’m finished.”
“I know the animals couldn’t be in better hands. Your father was the foremost horseman in England, I heard tell.”
“And will be again when Charles returns to the throne!”
“Amen to that, Mistress Cavendish.”
Velvet chose the same black palfrey she had ridden before. She tightened the girth. “Does this mare have a name, Alfred?”
“That’s Raven. She’s a little sweetheart.”
“It suits her! She flies on the wind. Don’t worry about me, Alfred—I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, at least.”
A short time later, he heard the clatter of hooves on the courtyard paving stones and thought Velvet had returned. He stepped from the stables to investigate and was surprised to see another visitor. Alfred recognized him immediately by the way he sat his horse. “Good day, Lord Montgomery.”
“It is a good day, Mr. Clegg. Can you find an empty stall for Falcon? I have something to tell you and your wife that I hope won’t inconvenience you in any way. I’m proud and happy to say that I am the new owner of Roehampton. I bought the estate from the Dowager Countess of Cavendish.”
“That is a surprise. I had no notion she intended to sell.”
“She didn’t.” Montgomery grinned. “I had a devil of a time persuading her. I’d appreciate your company while I break the news to Mrs. Clegg. Sometimes, women don’t like surprises.”
Alfred led Falcon into a stall. “This is a fine piece of horseflesh, my lord. Are you contemplating any staff changes?”
“None, Mr. Clegg. You are doing an admirable job here.”
“Thank you, sir. Let’s go and tell Bertha the news.”
The two men entered through the front door but didn’t find Mrs. Clegg until they went through to the kitchen.
“Another visitor! I love to cook, so I’ll simply double up on my recipes.” Bertha beamed.
“Lord Montgomery is not a visitor, my dear. He is the new owner. The dowager countess has sold Roehampton to him.”
When Bertha’s mouth fell open, Greysteel said quickly, “Once I saw the estate, I knew I had to have it. I beg that you remain as my housekeeper-cook, Mrs. Clegg.”
“Indeed, your lordship, it is an honor to serve you. When Mistress Cavendish arrived, she never breathed a word!”
“Velvet is here?” Greysteel asked with surprise.
“Yes, my lord. Came an hour ago, and already went riding.”
“She doesn’t yet know that I have bought this estate.”
“Oh, dear,” Bertha declared, “that will be awkward for her.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Clegg. Velvet is my betrothed. I’d like to tell her myself about Roehampton, if you don’t mind.”
A beatific look came over Bertha’s face. “Oh, my, how romantic! I could tell that Mistress Cavendish had fallen in love with the manor house. So that’s why you bought it—for her! Alfred and I will keep your secret, never fear, my lord.”
Montgomery nodded his thanks.
Judas, am I that transparent?
“After I put the bread in the oven, I’ll ready your room.”
“I am a military man, Mrs. Clegg, and pride myself on being self-sufficient. I shall take care of it myself.”
I hadn’t planned on staying overnight, but all that has suddenly changed!
He took the stairs two at a time. When he saw that Velvet had chosen a chamber facing the lake, he chose the bedroom that adjoined it. An intrusive thought shadowed his elation:
Perhaps Velvet has discovered that I bought Roehampton and it has miraculously changed her mind about our betrothal.
Greysteel questioned himself:
Isn’t that the reason you bought the place?
He answered honestly:
Yes, but I would be considerably happier if she desired me more than Roehampton.
He chided himself for being a romantic fool. He had always been a realist; life was seldom romantic and in any case her first words would tell him whether or not she knew he owned the place.
Montgomery removed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. After he made his bed, he went into Velvet’s room and laid a fire, though he didn’t light it. The autumn sun was shining brilliantly at the moment, but the September night would be cool. When he was done, he went for a walk on his own land.
Eventually he walked the perimeter of the lake. When he reached the far side, he spotted Velvet. He watched unnoticed, admiring the way she rode. Though she was a featherweight, she controlled her animal with ease. When she saw him she rode a direct path to him, and he felt a rush of pleasure at the way the breeze tumbled her glorious red gold hair about her shoulders.
Velvet reined in and walked her mount directly up to him. “What the devil are you doing here?” she demanded.
Greysteel’s heart skipped a beat.
She doesn’t know!
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he countered.
“I—” She hesitated, searching for a plausible reason. “Christian’s grandson is visiting her and I thought I’d give them some privacy by coming to Roehampton for a few days.” She glared down at him. “Did she tell you I was here?”
He grinned up at her. “Why do you suspect such a thing?”
“Because she wants us to marry and is doing her damnedest to throw us together. It is highly improper for us to be here.”
“Is it?” He held up his arms in invitation.
Velvet permitted him to lift her down and could not help being aware of his powerful muscles beneath the shirt. “Did you ask her permission to come here?”
He removed his hands from her waist and cupped her shoulders. “I must confess that I did not.”
“Then you are trespassing,” she accused, rather breathlessly, “and I suspect you are not in the habit of asking permission for anything you wish to do!”
“Your suspicions are correct, Velvet.” To demonstrate, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was not tentative; it was deliberate and sensually persuasive.
As his powerful arms drew her close, she became aware of how very tall and how dark he was. Her lashes swept down to her cheeks and a picture of Charles came full-blown to her. She melted against him and opened her lips in sweet invitation.
Greysteel’s body responded instantly. His cock hardened and lengthened against her soft belly. When Velvet did not pull away, but nestled closer against him, it enticed him to explore further. His hands stroked down her back and came to rest intimately on her round bottom. He lifted her so that her woman’s center rested against his hard length, and groaned at the throbbing torture.
Velvet’s lashes flew up and he saw that her green eyes were dilated with pleasure and he knew she was experiencing her first delicious taste of arousal. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Put me down,” she said breathlessly.
Instead, Greysteel traced her lips with his own tongue and it was Velvet’s turn to groan. Then he set her feet to the ground and withdrew his arms. He masked his triumph when she swayed toward him with longing.
His kisses make my insides melt.
Her inner voice warned:
It is Greysteel who is kissing you, not Charles!
Velvet replied,
I know, but the resemblance between them is uncanny.
Her inner voice mocked,
Velvet Cavendish, you don’t even recall what Charles Stuart looks like at this moment.
“That’s true,” she whispered aloud.
“What is true, Velvet?”
She sighed deeply. “That I am shamefully ignorant.”
He shook his head. “Enchantingly innocent,” he corrected. He tore his gaze away from her and looked across the water. “This may be the last warm day we’ll have this year. If only you knew how to swim, I’d invite you to join me in the lake.”
“Of course I know how to swim!”
Ods feet, this is too easy. She swallows my bait like a little rainbow trout.
“Velvet, is that the truth or bravado?”
“It’s the truth! I can swim—not too far, but some.”
“A pity you’re not able to defy convention, throw caution to the wind and remove your clothes, as I’m about to do.”
She knew he was challenging her to behave shamelessly, and it excited her. Her wicked juices compelled her to match him. With hands on hips, she declared triumphantly, “If you can call yourself Greysteel, I can call myself Velvet!”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Come on, then. I’ll race you.” He removed his shirt, pulled off his boots and glanced over at her. While she was busy pulling her riding dress over her head, he threw off the rest of his clothes and waded into the water. He watched her sit down, pull off her boots and carefully remove her stockings. “You lose—I win!”
“It’s not fair! Females wear more garments than males!”
“I always thought that was such a pity.”
“You devil! I shall keep my petticoat on.” She turned her back, removed her drawers, set them on top of her stockings and splashed into the water. “Oh, God help me, it’s freezing cold!”
“Cold? Southern ponds are warm as bathwater. Don’t you remember the icy feel of the lakes in Nottingham?”
“It was a long time ago, and little girls don’t feel the cold like grown ladies do.” She flung a handful of water at him.
He swam toward her. “You are still a little girl, Velvet.” He took her hand and pulled her deeper. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten how to play. Don’t ever grow up.”
When she couldn’t touch bottom, she grabbed his other hand. “I’m over my head, Greysteel.”
In more ways than one, I hope.
“Trust me to keep you safe.”
She looked into his compelling grey eyes, saw his strength and his confidence and gave herself over to his keeping. He took control effortlessly, taking her into ever deeper water. She recalled something she’d said on their first visit here:
You enjoy being in control, but I give you fair warning, Greysteel. You will never have the least control over me!
He had replied:
I shall, Velvet. Never, ever doubt it.
She shivered at the thought of how easily he had lured her beyond her depth.