Three Weeks to Wed (27 page)

“I'm on my way out.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Just a minute. I made some pies for you.” She bustled into the kitchen and was back a moment later. “Here you go. I'll send one of the boys to see how you're doing later.”

“Don't want to say much now.” Combs tapped the side of his nose. “But this job may make us more than the fee.”

His wife grinned. “We can always use the money.”

A few moments later, Combs took a hackney to Davies Street, just outside of Berkeley Square.

It was early afternoon before Combs could fulfill his agreement with his new client, Mr. Molton, and finally arrived in Berkeley Square. Carriages lined the streets and men in livery stood conversing. “Can ye tell me which one of these houses be Stanwood House?”

Once of the men pointed to a town house, two down from the corner.

Walking down the street a bit, he stopped to chat with two younger footmen. “What's goin' on here?”

A larger and older man wearing a different livery ambled up. “What's goin' on here is none of yourn business. If it was, ye'd know.”

Shrugging, Combs said, “Didn't mean nothin' by it. Jus makin' conversation like.”

“Go make it somewhere else, then. We're all on dooty here.” Combs walked into the parklike place in the middle of the square, leaned against a tree, and watched the door of Stanwood House. After a while, a young woman matching the description Molton gave him hurried across the square with a well-turned-out swell. “Bold as brass they are and in the middle of the day,” he muttered.

After, the couple entered a house on the other side of the square. He made himself as comfortable as he could and waited, never taking his eyes off the house, until his son came to relieve him. “Mind, keep watch on that door.” He pointed to Worthington House. “Yer lookin' for a young rum mort with yaller hair. Brazen-faced is she. Been in there most of the day. It's no wonder our swell don't want her to have charge of the children. Teach them all to be as loose as she be. She'd be better off at Miss Betsy's, if you know what I mean.”

“They'd pay a pretty penny for her, and, the Lord knows, we could use it,” his son agreed. “You better get home. Mam says she'll be waitin' for ye with dinner.”

Combs stood and stretched. “I'll spell ye tonight.”

* * *

Matt must have drifted off to sleep. When he glanced out the window, the sun was no longer visible.

He kissed Grace's hair, and she squirmed against him. “I'm famished.”

“Mmm, I am too.” He slid her under him.

“For food.” Her stomach growled.

He heaved a sigh. “I suppose I don't want anyone to say I starved my wife.”

“Should we call someone?”

“Wait here.” Matt donned his dressing gown and gave Grace the colorfully embroidered silk banyan he'd bought for her. Stepping into the parlor, he saw a table set up with covered dishes, wine, water, and lemonade. “Someone has anticipated your needs.”

Grace seemed to float into the room. She lifted one of the lids. “Roasted chicken, what else do we have?”

He uncovered the rest of the dishes. “Bread, cheese, fruit. Would you like wine?”

“Please. Will you carve the chicken?”

“With pleasure. By the looks of this, I don't think we are expected anywhere to-day.”

“No, it appears not. I wonder if they'll bring breakfast or if we are eating with our family.”

Grace plucked a grape from the bunch, slid it between her still swollen lips, and chewed.

Worthington's blood heated and desire rose again. He wished she'd remove her dressing gown. Though it was probably too much to expect her to dine in the nude, or allow him to eat grapes from between her breasts. Well, maybe eat the grapes. That shouldn't take too long to accomplish.

Taking another grape, she chewed and swallowed. “What are you thinking?”

“Come here.” When she reached him, she had another piece of fruit between her lips. He bit it in half and licked the juice from her lips. “Of things we must do in the future.”

“Oh, such as the guardianship.”

“The guardianship of course, among other things.” He lowered his lids and smiled slowly. “I've left a message that we are to be disturbed only if there was any problem with the filing. Because, to-day and tonight, I plan to concentrate on my wife, and I don't want her worrying.”

Grace's eyes opened wide, her smile was sultry. “Oh, is your wife not allowed to worry, my lord?”

Running the smooth skin of the fruit over her lips and down her neck, before popping it in his mouth, he smiled. “My wife will fret, it's her nature. My job is to make her less anxious.”

“Then I predict your wife will be an extremely happy lady.”

He carved the chicken. “Do you remember that first night, when I told you you'd be well pleasured?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

Placing a large piece of chicken on her plate, he grinned. “You need to eat.”

* * *

Grace woke to find herself nestled into Matt in the same way she had been that first morning. When she started to slip out of bed, his arm clamped around her. “Where are you going?”

“Only to the water closet.” She smiled. “I'll be right back.”

He grunted.

Even though the room was a little chilly, she didn't don her dressing gown. Upon her return, she found he'd stoked the fire and added more wood.

Sliding back into the bed, she snuggled next to him to warm herself. Come to think of it, he was warm the last time. “Are you never cold?”

“Not really. You are though.” He turned her so her back was to his chest and pulled the duvet closely around her.

In a few minutes, she was comfortable enough to think about other desires and pushed her bottom into his engorged shaft.

His lips nuzzled her hair and his teeth nipped at the outer whorl of her ear. She could feel his grin as Matt kissed her jaw. “Do you want something, my love?”

“Yes, if you don't mind.” He slid his hand to her curls and stroked before his lips traveled over her breasts, over her stomach until he licked the tight nub nestled in her mons.

She shouted his name as the tension spiraled, winding her tighter.

Matt chuckled. “I love it when you scream.”

She tried to laugh and couldn't. She'd scream all he liked if he'd just bring her the relief she needed. Bright sparks burst inside her. He moved back up her body. His hard shaft penetrated her, then he withdrew and entered again. Frissons of delight raced through her. Grace wrapped herself around him and the maelstrom built until she thought she would die. It flung her out and he shouted and pumped deeply into her. Hers, he was hers. He'd made his vows earlier, yet he'd also made them to her now. A bond she had never known could exist enveloped them, and she vowed never to let anyone else have him. Nothing would ever separate them.

The next time she woke, the sun poured through the window.

“I'm hungry.” Grace started to rise.

He stopped her. “I'll go.” Matt pulled the covers around her, then strode into the parlor. “Nothing. I assume that means we're expected across the way for breakfast.”

She gave him her most sultry smile. “Hmm. Well, until Bolton and your valet arrive to dress us, you can come back to bed, my lord.”

His eyes roamed over her body, and he grinned. “What an excellent idea, my lady.”

Thus far, being married was a great deal of fun.

Matt closed the door on his valet, then turned toward Grace. “Not only have I been advised we are expected across the street, I've been reminded that this is Good Friday, and we have a church service to attend.” Matt gazed down grinning at what must be the most wanton-looking countess in London. Her hair, a riot of messy curls, was spread out over her and around the pillows as she sprawled naked on the sheets. “Bolton is here and has your bathwater ready.”

Grace sat up, pushing back her hair. “I'm hungry.”

He gave a bark of laughter. Other than making love, the only thing they'd done was eat. He took her hand and pulled her up. “You're always hungry. If you want food, you'll have to bathe. I cannot have my countess appearing at church appearing less than respectable.”

Her eyes flew open. “Less than—what do you mean?”

He turned her toward a mirror. She was delectable, but he doubted she'd agree.

“Oh no. What a fright I look, and you didn't say a word.”

“You look like what you are, a well-sated wife.” He handed Grace her dressing gown. “My wife and I love you just as you are.”

She pulled a face as she stared into the mirror. “You must be besotted if you like my appearance now.”

Matt kissed her. “Considering I had something to do with it, I dare not complain.”

“No. You're right about that.” She turned into his arms.

“My lady, your water is getting cold.” Bolton's voice boomed through the door.

“Coming, Bolton.” Grace closed her eyes for a moment, then gazed up at him.

“My lord?” Timmons, his valet, called. “You must dress if you're going to be on time.”

Matt grinned and imagined many mornings of these conversations. “Yes, I know. I'll be there directly.”

Gathering her in his arms again, Worthington kissed her. “I'll see you soon.”

Grace melted into his arms. “Yes.”

* * *

Bolton grumbled as she combed out Grace's curls. “I don't suppose his lordship could have let you braid your hair?”

Grace laughed. “I don't recall the matter coming up.” Though other subjects had. “I'll ask him, if you like.”

“I'd be surprised if it'll do any good.” Bolton shook her head. “I remember well your mother's maid complaining.”

Grace donned the morning gown she'd worn yesterday, this time with stays, then returned to their chambers. How she loved the sound of that. She leaned against the door and watched as he tied his cravat. “Don't be long, will you?”

“No, it's just this cravat. I'll be along soon.” He eyed her morning gown. “You're not wearing that?”

“Naturally, I am not, but I never dress until the children have eaten. It won't take me long.” She blew him a kiss, left the house, and walked across the square. From Royston to the tweenie who cleaned the parlor, her household servants were lined up to wish her happy.

Her butler bowed. “My lady, the staff would like to congratulate you on your marriage.”

Tears of joy started in her eyes as she greeted each one and thanked them. “Oh, my. I didn't expect this. Thank you so much.”

A few minutes later, Matt entered and was congratulated as well. “Come, my dear. We must break our fast and go to church.”

When they entered the breakfast room, Mr. Winters and Miss Tallerton stood and began clapping. The children joined in.

Charlotte rose. “We are so happy for you.”

She nudged Charlie who jumped up. Louisa handed him a piece of paper. “Yes, we are and we, all of us have a toast for you.” He raised his teacup. “‘To Matt, our new brother, and Grace, our new sister, we wish you a happy marriage and'—just a moment—do you really want me to say this?”

“Yes,” Louisa hissed, and resumed her smile.

Charlie's brows rose. “All right, ‘we wish you many happy times together and a lot of children, because we want to be aunts and uncles.'”

Their brothers' and sisters' faces beamed. At the moment, Grace couldn't bring herself to think of additional children. She glanced at Matt who was fighting a valiant battle to maintain his countenance, and spoke for the both of them. “Thank you for all your good wishes. Now, everyone must finish breakfast. We are going to church again.”

After filling her plate, Grace took her place at the foot of the table.

Her husband leaned down. “Do I have to sit at the head?”

“No, not during breakfast.” She held her hand out to him.

“Good.” Worthington took her fingers and kissed them before visiting the sideboard. He came back with a plate piled even higher than hers.

Yesterday morning, she had felt so alone it had quite dampened her appetite; this morning she ate everything and went back for more. “I love breaking my fast with all of you. I only hope that by the time you have gone on to make your own lives, we shall have more children to join us.”

Her brothers and sisters and his sisters all nodded in agreement. Worthington paled a little. “Indeed, my love, we shall hope for the best.”

Grace took her last bite and her final sip of tea. “If you can stay and help get them all together, I'll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

“Of course. I'll take care of them and have everyone ready.”

She kissed him and left.

“Sir,” Philip asked, “why must you always kiss Grace?”

Matt picked up his cup. What does one say to an eight-year-old boy about kissing? “She would be upset if I did not.” The boy's brows drew together as if not quite understanding. Perhaps something more direct was called for. “It is obligatory to kiss one's wife.”

Philip frowned. “Well, in that case, you won't mind if I don't marry, will you? I don't think I would like to always be kissing a lady.”

Louisa and Charlotte hid their faces in their hands as their shoulders shook. Matt cast them a stern glance and noticed that Walter and Charlie were applying themselves diligently to their plates. Matt returned his attention to Philip. “Not at all. When you are of sufficient age to marry”—Matt slapped Louisa on the back as she made a choking sound—“and you still do not wish to kiss a lady, I'm sure Grace and I will have no objection to you remaining single.”

Letting out a relieved breath, Philip smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Er, Philip, you may call me Matt if you choose. I
am
your brother now.”

“Umm, yes, sir. I mean, Matt. Thank you.”

Walter fixed Matt with a look. “Very glad this all worked out. You marrying Grace, that is. Didn't much like her acting like a watering pot and hiding away.”

Agreeing entirely with Walter, Matt nodded. “No, I can see how uncomfortable that would have been. I don't like to see her cry myself.”

Charlie stood. “All right, you lot, time to go and finish getting ready.”

Matt lounged in his chair. “She'll be at least a half an hour.”

As he turned to look at him, Charlie's face took on an amused cast. “Still have some things to learn about Grace, I see. You'll look no how when she comes back and we're all still at the table.”

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Matt said, “Go on.”

Charlie grinned. “If she says fifteen minutes, that's what she means.”

“Very well, off you go. I don't intend to spend my first full day as her husband in a bumble bath.”

“Wise decision, sir,” Walter added.

Grace appeared precisely fifteen minutes after she'd left. He would have dashed a hand across his eyes in relief, but he was straightening Philip's clothing.

“Is everyone ready?” Grace asked, sticking a pin into her hat.

“Yes,” Matt said, turning toward the milling herd. “Everyone, hold hands with one other person and line up.”

They sorted themselves out in short order and were ready. “My lady.” He bowed. “After you.”

Grace took his arm. “Where is Patience?”

“She went with your aunt and uncle.”

“Very well, let us proceed.”

“My love,” Matt said, “are we going to walk to church every time we attend?”

“You have a choice,” she said in an overly sweet tone. “We can walk, or you can see how much energy they have when we take the coaches. Do you remember yesterday?”

He frowned. “Yes, but that was only because of the wedding.”

She cast him a sidelong glance. “If you truly believe that, we may take the coaches on Sunday.”

He had a vision of eleven active children in St. George's—his active children—and capitulated. “You've done a very good job with Charlie. He appears to take his duties seriously, but in stride.”

Grinning, his wife said, “He made it easy. When we went through the guardianship process, he realized, early on, that he would be responsible for the children and the estates upon his majority.” Grace paused. “I wish he could have the opportunity to enjoy some freedom before taking up his duties, but it's not possible.”

Matt covered her hand. “Many young men who've made that decision are very dull dogs. Charlie is not. I predict he'll enjoy himself in a fashion that won't harm his dependents.”

“No, he's not a dead bore.” Tilting her head, she smiled up at him. “And I think you are right. He will find a way to enjoy himself and not harm anyone else.”

“Don't forget, he'll have both of us to help him now.” Matt would do his best to ensure Charlie did not shoulder any responsibilities he wasn't ready for. All young men should have time to sow a few wild oats.

* * *

Combs relieved his son and at seven o'clock the next morning watched the lady walk back over to Stanwood House. The gentleman followed a few minutes later. “He'll have what he needs now, and we maybe could help him a bit more by getting rid of his niece.” Combs sauntered out of the square and headed toward Mr. Molton's rooms.

Molton heard the banging at the door and tried hard to separate it from the banging in his head. He'd been at the Daffy Club last night, reacquainting himself with London's entertainments. He planned to be a very rich man.

“Mr. Molton, sir. I got the information ye need.”

Combs. Of course, who else would be knocking so early? “Give me a minute.”

He dragged himself out of bed and poured water in the basin. After splashing his face and brushing his teeth, he donned a dressing gown. In his considerable experience, people who woke up at the crack of dawn didn't like to smell gin or brandy on another person, and he required Combs's full cooperation.

Molton opened the door, welcomed Mr. Combs, and motioned him to a seat. After which, he rang for coffee. Once Molton had poured a cup for himself and the investigator, he took a chair. “Tell me what you found.”

Combs took a large drink of the coffee and set the cup back down. “It were just like ye said. That niece of yourn's a regular doxy. Spend the whole night at that swell's house and come out as brazen as could be this morning. I'll testify to it. Can't have trash like her keeping innocents.”

“Er, thank you. Well done.” Molton rubbed a hand over his face.
Don't tell me the man's a bloody Methodist?

“Thank ye. When I teld me rib what she done, she sez it's clear where me dooty be.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Molton rubbed his jaw. “I shall, of course, attempt to reason with her. If she will not give up the children, I must file a suit in Chancery Court.”

“Ye jus tell me, and I'll be there. Seen it with me own eyes. Me and my oldest.” He nodded emphatically.

“Thank you again, and thank your son. I'll come by later to pay you.”

“No need, no need a'tall. Won't be in the office to-day, as it's Good Friday. But me rib and me, we figure it's a mission of God to save those youn'uns.”

Good Lord, the man was a Methodist
. A starchier group of people he'd never met. “Truly, the work of the Lord.” Molton said with what he hoped was proper piety. “You have a good day with your family.”

The man wrung his hand. “Be seein' ye later I s'pect.”

“Yes, yes, if she's not reasonable.” Fate must be on his side. At least he saved some money. Though he wouldn't have to worry about being at low water ever again, not after he spoke to Worthington and let him know the game was up.

* * *

Once Matt and Grace arrived at the church with the rest of their family, Charlie, Louisa, and Charlotte helped settle the children. Patience and Lord and Lady Herndon joined them. A few moments later the Eveshams and Rutherfords stopped by.

Seeing the wives of his friends in a delicate condition, Matt wondered how long it would be before Grace was breeding. He must have lost his mind, but he hoped she was already pregnant.

St. George's was half empty, and he gave thanks for those who'd left London for Easter. The remaining congregants now paid little attention to them. They returned home to Jacques's roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. The chef was definitely remaining with them.

After dinner, Charlie took him aside. “I wanted to thank you, sir.”

Worthington turned in surprise. “How so?”

Charlie grimaced. “The children, though I don't suppose I should call Louisa and Charlotte children, told me that Grace refused you at first, but you kept at it until she said yes.”

Clapping him on the back, Matt glanced at his brother-in-law and gave Charlie a serious look. “One must fight for what one wants.”

“Yes, well you see, I knew she wanted to marry.” He shuffled his feet a bit. “But she gave up all her dreams for us.”