A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (57 page)

“I’ve had a lot of demands on my time.”

“
But frittered some away at horse races.”

“I can’t regret that,” he said.

She couldn’t resist. She kissed him.

“Besides that,” he said, “Carta won me a fair sum, cash in hand.”

Georgia’s mother was ahead of them, looking around. She began to call suggestions, most of them far too expensive to implement. Georgia didn’t argue, but she saw other needs.

“We must have a pond.”

“It would be in danger of overflowing at the moment,” Dracy said.

“Not if properly constructed. You promised me a naval battle, sir.”

“I don’t have twenty servants.”

Georgia considered the problem. “Don’t you think we could find twenty willing children from the village? Where is the village?”

“Crux Dracy? About a mile beyond the long coppice. Over that way. And, yes, I’m sure we could find willing children. When we have a pond.”

“We” was a most delightful word, and the sun was struggling out from behind the clouds.

They progressed around to the walled kitchen garden, where beans climbed poles and cabbages thickened amid a number of other plants.

“This could easily be brought back into full production,” her mother said, and Georgia agreed. Only a third was in use, but it was decently tended.

“The few servants my cousin left here saw no reason not to grow food,” Dracy said. “Quite likely they passed any surplus to their families, or even sold it. I’ve not inquired.”

Her mother sniffed at that and went off to inspect a neglected herb area.

Dracy said, “Come and see the stables.”

“I’m more interested in the orchards. We’ll need to
provide for ourselves as much as possible. What’s the state of the home farm?”

“Later. Come to the stables.”

She went, but as they approached she said, “The stable roof looks sound. And new.”

“It was in the worst state, and with Carta showing such promise…”

“Are you desperately attached to the Dracy racing stables?” she asked. “I don’t think we can afford it, and I won’t like my husband to be often away at race meetings.”

“Demanding, are you?”

Georgia felt a twinge of fear, fear that she would ruin all this, all her dreams for this, but she said, “Yes. I’m willing to put my all into Dracy Manor, but for us. It must be about us.”

“All I want is us. There’s Carta over there in the field.”

She smiled at the black mare. “Our Cupid. Without her we might have missed each other in the night.”

“Perhaps I’ll rename her, or name her first foal that. But no. You’re right about the stud. Perhaps I only dedicated myself to that because it seemed possible, and the house and estate defeated me. With you at my side, no longer.”

She snuggled up against him. “It’s a powerful challenge, but I can see it now, a mellow house in blooming gardens, well-drained land, and plentiful produce.”

“You really can bear to live here most of the time?” he asked.

“As long as it’s us.”

“I have an idea. Carta’s too good a racer to keep here. How much do you think your father would pay for her?”

She grinned. “With persuasion, a good deal.”

They came together for a kiss but eventually found the resolution to break it. No lovemaking in the muddy gardens, but Georgia longed to be closer to him, together in each other’s arms.

“
Torrismonde had an interesting idea,” he said, taking her hand as they strolled on. “About Town living.”

“Yes?”

“I will need to spend some time there in winter for Parliament. What would you say to living at your father’s house?”

“What?” she exclaimed in instant rejection.

“Think about it, love. Hardly any expense, and otherwise, we can’t afford any kind of elegant accommodation. You wouldn’t like a tiny room on a third floor. Perhaps your parents would provide a suite of rooms where we could be private in a way.”

“Damnation, Dracy, you heap hardships upon me!” But she made herself consider the idea. “I will pine a little for a neat Mayfair house of my own, and that’s the truth, but it would be ridiculous to have one for only a few weeks a year. I will insist on that suite, but if that’s the worst hardship I ever face, I will be blessed. I am blessed,” she added, and they kissed again.

She decided she loved these little kisses, like tasting kisses, or sips of nectar. Nectar they could drink deeply of one day. Soon.

She linked arms with him and they strolled back toward the house. “So we toil here from spring to autumn and enjoy a little of the beau monde in the winter. And perhaps an occasional visit elsewhere? Bath is not so very far.”

“Bath is not so very far,” he agreed. “Come, you missed something in the garden.”

He took her hand and led her back to the house, to an unkempt flower bed against the wall. Part had been dug over, and in it…

“Nicotiana!” she exclaimed. “How did you manage that?”

“After the ball I asked Lady Thretford to donate her plants. I didn’t know if they’d survive the journey, but here they are, and with a blossom or two.” She smiled at
him, but before she could comment, he added, “They’re carefully placed beneath my bedroom window. If you were to visit tonight after dark, you might catch the perfume.”

That night she slipped into his bedroom. He was waiting for her, this time in a plain woolen robe. She was wearing a pretty, new nightgown and her green robe.

“It seems so long,” she said.

“It’s been an eternity,” he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her, and kissing her. She could have kissed like that for eons except that she had more in mind for this night.

She pushed him away and shed her silk robe. Slowly, she undid her buttons.

With a smile, he unfastened the ones on his own robe, watching her.

She chuckled and slowly raised the skirt of her nightdress, teasing him.

He peeled off his robe and tossed it aside, naked.

“Are you going to stand there like that all night?” he said. “I don’t mind. We do have all night. If we’re caught at this, they can only make us wed.”

She laughed and pulled off the nightgown, tossing it aside as he had. “No hair powder tonight.”

“For which I thank the heavens.” He plunged his hands into her hair, raising it up and then letting it fall. “It catches fire in the candlelight.”

“I worried about that powder,” she said. “That a servant would know.”

“I cleaned it up, though I was tempted.”

“Tempted?”

“To leave it, to compromise you. To force you.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, melting with love. “You are the most perfect man in the world.” She went on tiptoe to kiss his scarred cheek. “I want you to take me to your bed and make me completely yours.”

He was caressing a breast, but his hand stilled. “Why?”

“At one time I considered taking my chosen husband to bed before the wedding, because if I didn’t conceive, I could jilt him. I didn’t want to disappoint again.”

He shook his head. “I doubt you could have done it, love, and I’ve told you, if we have no children, I’ll not complain.”

She put her hand on his chest. “Then what difference will it make? You’ll not escape marrying me, Lord Dracy, so take me now. Make me completely yours.”

He did, with all his skill, but simply, which for Georgia was skillful perfection. He caressed her to passion as she explored his wonderful body, and then sank deep into her, slowly, gently, sliding sweetly, making her arch with breathless delight.

He kissed her as he moved, commanding her, guiding her in the pounding rhythm to a passion beyond even that they’d shared before. She filled her mouth with his hot, salty flesh to stifle cries of pleasure as her body jolted with fulfillment and then collapsed into another drowning kiss and limp completion.

Eventually the power of speech returned, but what to say?

“I love you,” she said into his sweaty skin. “And I love lying here like this, tucked against you, safe from all harm. Did I tell you you’re my anchor?”

“I’d rather you fly, Georgia, than be tethered by me. I adore you,” he said, kissing her hair, “and I adore being in bed with you so much that I fear Dracy will crumble around our besotted heads.”

Georgia chuckled and turned to nuzzle into him, inhaling a sweeter and more magical smell even than flowering tobacco. “Let it.”

Author’s Note

A
Scandalous Countess
was great fun to write because I found some new elements with which to play.

First, there was a widowed heroine. I haven’t featured a widow in one of my novels for a long time, but my story idea called for one. However, I also wanted a heroine who was vulnerable to her family’s pressure to marry, and I decided that meant she must be a young widow. In the eighteenth century, widows generally had a rare degree of power and independence, but I assumed that at twenty years of age Georgia would be powerless.

When I plunged into the research, I discovered I was wrong. No problem. I love to learn something new.

I discovered that a widow or widower was free to marry whomever they wished, even if less than twenty-one. I assume the rationale was that their father surrendered authority at the first marriage and couldn’t get it back. A widow also had possession of her jointure no matter how young she was.

Thus Georgia could have lived independently, but it makes perfect sense to me that she doesn’t. She is shocked by bereavement and unjust scandal, and gladly accepts her family’s support, even though it comes with control. Even as she recovers and begins to resent restrictions, she’s still not ready to set up house for herself. She doesn’t want to be independent and alone. She wants to win back all she has lost in position and possessions.

Scandal was another new story element for me, and it was interesting to see how a powerful family and a strong heroine would deal with it.

The third new element was the seriously scarred hero. I didn’t know how that would work out, but, as I wrote, I liked the fact that Dracy takes his disfigurement without bitterness. I only discovered slowly that he’d been extremely good-looking, but it adds to the novel in many ways. It gives him an interesting sexual history and plays against Georgia’s dependence on her beauty.

Writing a young widow was an adventure in another way. I experience the developments with my characters as they happen, so I was with Georgia as she discovers that overnight she’s gone from being a wife—with wealth, a high position in society, and complex homes to run—to having nothing but the dowry she started with, returned almost to the schoolroom.

Such a situation would have been rare. Even back then, not many young ladies married at sixteen, and hardly any were then widowed at twenty. To be widowed and childless was probably close to unique. If Georgia had had a son, she would have remained in her homes as he grew up, but, as it is, she is in effect evicted.

Have you wondered about marriage settlements, dowries, and jointures? It can seem quite complicated, but I’ll try to explain.

When a bride brought a dowry to the match it was usual for her parents or guardians to negotiate legal settlements, mainly to protect her interests.

The first point to be hammered out was the income the bride would have during the marriage—what was called “pin money.” Also, if the groom was a minor, the settlements would specify what income his family would provide so he could support his wife until he came into possession of his property at twenty-one.

The second point was the amount to be set aside for any daughters and younger sons to be born of the marriage. The oldest son would in time inherit the estate, so he wasn’t covered by the settlements. However, a lump
sum was usually put in trust to provide for any other children. As they came into their teens and found professions or husbands, they received their share, which is why each person’s part was called a “portion.” As you can see, a large family could result in small portions and an only child could have a large one.