The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (25 page)

His hand rested on her hip as she stirred beside him. Her boldness had been a pleasant surprise. “Well done, my brazen wife.”
    She rolled over on her back and looked up at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “But why did you have me stop? It gives me pleasure and I thought you would like it as well. At first, you did seem to like it.”
    “You were about to unman me. A child cannot come from that type of mouth play.”
    “But you liked it?”
    He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “God, yes. I adored it.”
    She wrinkled her forehead. “Must a child always be our intent?”
    “No. Enjoyment is reason enough.”
    “Good.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I would hate it if you only wanted me for my child bearing abilities.”
    He chuckled. “I promise you, there is no danger of that.”
    She stretched, causing her breasts to lift into two perfect peaks. He leaned over and traced the areola with the tip of his tongue.
    “Who do you suppose he is?”
    Baffled, he lifted his head. “Who?”
    She sputtered with exasperation. “Our mystery man who has no memory. Who else would I be speaking of?”
    “Forgive me for my lack of comprehension.” He stretched out on his side with his head propped up by his hand. “I was feeling rather distracted by the lovely young naked woman beside me. I can’t imagine why. He’s French. I’d say mid-thirties to early forties, a gentleman, though whether he’s an aristocrat, banker, merchant, or politician, I really don’t have any idea. Poor bloke. It must be unnerving not knowing who you are. I can’t imagine.”
    “What happens if he never remembers? What will he do?”
    “I don’t know,” he admitted. He palmed her other breast. She seemed to be doing her best to ignore his ministration, but both nipples were taut. “I’ve someone investigating. We should find out something.”
    “Who did you send out? Has there been time enough to contact Bow Street?”
    He scowled and his hand went still. “I’ve never used Bow Street. Most of them are little more than thugs.”
    “Then who did you send?”
    “Someone I’ve worked with in the past.”
    “The same man who helped you find the children?”
    He nodded. “One of them. I employed more than one man.”
    She looked thoughtful. “Where’s Harris?”
    He paused a second too long before answering. “What makes you ask that?”
    “I haven’t seen him for three days. I can’t complain as Jake gives me far more freedom than Harris. Where ever did you meet him?”
    “Jake came with the estate.”
    “You know very well I’m talking about Harris. I’ve always had the feeling he was more than just a groom. Where did you meet him?”
    “Spain.”
    “A Scotsman in Spain,” she mused. “Was he your bat man?"
    “No.”
    “Was he under your command?”
    “No.”
    “Then why was he with you in Spain?”
    “We were fighting the bloody French. And I try not to dwell on those days. They weren’t pleasant.”
    “I wonder if he has a wife or children.”
    “Harris?”
    “No, silly. The man with amnesia. If he does, it would be terribly hard on them not knowing where he is.” She chewed on her lip as she thought. “Could we still have the house party, if we postpone it a bit? It would seem unfeeling to have a party while he’s still suffering upstairs and I wouldn’t want him to feel excluded.”
    “A few nights ago the man had his head bashed in. I’m certain a house party is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.” His fingers tiptoed across her belly and he felt her muscles clench. He grinned. “I can’t say the topic is of much interest to me at the moment, either.”
    The color rose in her cheeks and he could tell she was having difficulty keeping a straight face. She bit down on her lip. “But don’t you think it would be rather interesting to have a guest with amnesia?”
    “It would certainly top the Sheraton’s dinner party. You could make mention of it on the invitations to be certain everyone within a hundred miles would come and gawk at the poor man.”
    She had the grace to look chagrined. “I suppose that was rather ghastly of me, wasn’t it?”
    “Exceedingly.”
    “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. And there's always a chance that+- someone at the house party might know who he is.”
    “Give the man a chance to refuse if he wishes. He’s been through quite a lot.”
    He tried to pull her closer but she wormed herself out of his grasp and stood up. “I’m not planning on forcing him. Of course, it will be up to him.”
    Rand barely heard what she said as his eyes roamed up the expanse of long white legs that ended with tight copper curls still damp from their lovemaking. “What are you doing?”
    “I’m going swimming.”
    “Stay here. I’m not done with you yet.”
    “I’ll be back. It isn’t as if I plan to spend all afternoon swimming.”
    “You’ll get cold.”
    “No, I won’t. It’s quite warm out today.”
    “The ducks won’t take kindly to you swimming in their lake.”
    “They’re hiding in the grass. They have been ever since we came over here,” she said. “And you needn’t worry because I’m a very good swimmer.”
    “I know you are.” He sighed but had to admit that the view wasn’t bad as she turned her back to him and waded into the water. Her rounded hips swayed with every step. The copper hair that hung to her waist glinted in the sunlight. When the water reached her hips she dove, her slim legs slicing cleanly through the water. She emerged a few moments later.
    Treading water, she called out, “It isn’t cold at all. You should join me.” Without waiting for a reply she swam a few strokes then turned on her back and floated. Her long hair fanned around her head in the water. He could see her pert breasts thrust upward. Swimming was suddenly very appealing. He rose to his feet and went to join her.

C
ecelia dabbed a napkin at the chocolate that had trickled down Rosie’s chin. “Try another sip, but this time, don’t be in such a hurry. It’s very important that you learn how to conduct yourself at tea.”
    Their tea table was set up on a circular flagstone patio edged with hollyhocks and snapdragons. The sun was warm and the air fragrant with jasmine and climbing. Water splashed in a tiered fountain, nearby.
    Rosie was dressed in her best frock; a pale pink dress with puffed sleeves trimmed with white ribbons and lace. Her straw bonnet was secured with a large pink satin bow. She wore white stockings and tan kid leather shoes. Head bent, brows knitted in concentration, she carefully stirred her chocolate before taking a small lady-like sip then gently set the blue and gold teacup in its saucer and grinned widely at Cecelia.
    “Well done,” Cecelia praised her. “You didn’t spill a drop.”
    Obviously pleased with herself, Rosie’s grin grew even wider. “May I have more chocolate, please?”
    “Yes, you may.” Cecelia picked up the blue china chocolate pot, poured a little more in Rosie’s cup and waited. “What do you say, Rosie?”
    “Oh. Thank you, my lady.”
    Rosie blew on her chocolate and then took a noisy sip. Cecelia shook her head in reproach.
    “It’s hot,” Rosie protested before Cecelia could say anything.
    “If it’s too hot you must wait for it to cool. Remember what I said.”
    “A lady doesn’t slurp,” Rosie answered solemnly.
    Cecelia hid a smile and nodded. “Yes. But slurp isn’t the best word to use in polite company.”
    Rosie’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why? Is it a bad word?”
    “It’s considered common. And before you ask me why it’s considered common I must tell you that I don’t know. It simply is.”
    Rosie pursed her lips until they resembled the pink bows in her hair. “Then what should I say?”
    “A lady doesn’t make noise when she sips her chocolate.”
    “Very well.” Rosie sighed. “A lady doesn’t make noise when she sips her chocolate.” She managed to take another sip without making a sound.
    “Excellent.”
    “Mrs. Johnson makes noise when she sips,” Rosie said. “She’s very loud. But Elizabeth says that’s because she’s missing most of her teeth. If she’s allowed to make noise at tea why can’t I?”
    “You aren’t missing any teeth.”
    “But this one.” She stopped talking long enough to wiggle her bottom front tooth. “Ith looth.”
    Cecelia held her napkin to her mouth to stop her laughter.
    “May I slurp when it falls out?”
    “No.”
    “Oh.” Rosie took another careful sip then asked, “Where did the man’s memory go?”
    “What?”
    “You told us the man’s memory got lost and he doesn’t know who he is. Though I suppose if you knew where it was it wouldn’t be lost because you could tell him.”
    Cecelia smiled at her logic. “We’ve learned his name. Just this morning, Thomas received word from the coaching house that the gentleman’s name is Monsieur André.”
    Rosie screwed up her face as she attempted the name. “Mon-jure André,” she recited slowly.
    “Mon-sieur,” Cecelia corrected. “It’s pronounced softly.”
    Rosie frowned. "Why can’t I call him mister? It’s ever so much easier.”
    “Because he’s French. And the French word for mister is Monsieur. Miss is Mademoiselle and Mrs. is Madam. I should really begin your French lessons soon.”
    Rosie sighed. “More lessons. And more lessons. I don’t like lessons.”“You’ll be glad for it someday. Lizzie’s in France, now, and I’m sure she’s very glad that she was tutored in French.”
    “I suppose.” Rosie looked thoughtful. “Why did Mon-sier André lose his memory?”
    Not quite sure how to explain the situation to a five year old child she hesitated a moment. “Sometimes a hard hit on the head causes one to forget things. Monsieur André had a hit to the head and now he doesn’t remember what his name is or anything about his life. But it’s possible his memory will return. We hope it will, because it must be very difficult not to know who you are.”
    “Did the highway man hit him?” Rosie asked.
    Cecelia’s brows lifted in surprise. “How did you know that?”
    “The two ladies that change our beds said a highway man took all his things and then they hit him.”
    “They said this to you?”
    “No.” Rosie sighed and shook her head. “Not to me.” She sighed a second time. “They didn’t pay any attention to me at all. They never do. But Nurse scolded them for talking about it in the nursery. She said it would scare me, but it didn’t. I’m not scared of highwaymen.”
    Cecelia was curious. “Why aren’t you afraid of highway men?”
    “Because I’m just a little girl and I don’t have anything to steal. Have you ever seen one?”
    Cecelia thought of the grisly scene she witnessed a few nights ago and shuddered. “No, I haven’t.” But she had seen their handiwork.
    “They wear masks sometimes,” the little girl said solemnly. “I think that’s very clever. Don’t you?” She continued on without waiting for an answer. “Why isn’t David having tea with us? He slurps--I mean makes noise when he drinks but he’s not a lady so I suppose it doesn’t matter. May I have another lemon biscuit?”
    “You must say please.”
    “May I have a lemon biscuit, please?”
    “Yes, you may.” Cecelia put a biscuit on a small plate and handed it to Rosie. “And David isn’t having tea with us because this tea is for ladies only.”
    Rosie took a dainty bite of her biscuit and laid the rest on her plate. “Will Mon-sieur André
ever
get his memory back?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “But if you tell him his name is Monsieur André, he’ll know who he is. And then he’ll remember.”
    Rosie’s statement held the simplistic reasoning of a child and how to explain the situation to her had Cecelia stumped. She was granted a temporary reprieve.
    “I see Thomas!” Rosie exclaimed suddenly.
    Cecelia turned to see her husband striding toward them. He was garbed in a jacket of dark blue superfine, a brown waistcoat and tan breeches. His boots were dusty from his ride, but every hair was in place and his cravat was still snowy white. “Stay put,” she told Rosie who had risen from her seat. “You’ve done very well today. You don’t want to ruin it by launching yourself at Thomas like a little hoyden.”
    Rand chuckled as he came up beside them, “And if anyone should know about hoyden tendencies it would be my wife. I heard you were out here having tea in the garden. Are learning your manners, Rosie?”
    “Oh yes.” The ribbons on her bonnet danced as she nodded her head with enthusiasm. "I’ve done very well, haven’t I?” She looked at Cecelia.
    “Yes, you have,” Cecelia said. “Very well.”
    “Except, I slurped once,” the little girl confessed. “I mean I made noise when I drank my chocolate. I’m not supposed to say slurp in polite company.”
    “I’m very happy you’re learning comportment.”
    Rosie giggled. “I’m learning what?”
    “Good manners.” Rand tweaked the end of Rosie’s nose and then turned to Cecelia. “I’ve just come from Trawley’s. Now that the bank has agreed to extend him credit and I’ve lowered the rents, the atmosphere is far more cordial. I’m certain his wife would be pleased if you called on her sometime this week.”
    Cecelia nodded. She was well versed in what was expected of her as the wife of a titled landowner. Her mother had paid monthly calls on their tenants in Surrey and after her brother had married, Priscilla had taken on the duty. Cecelia would do the same here. “I’ll have a basket made up and go over tomorrow.”
    “Take Harris with you.”
    Cecelia frowned at the mention of Harris’s name. “Couldn’t I take someone else?”
    “No.”
    Rosie tugged on Rand’s coat. “Would you like to have tea with us, Thomas? Oh no!” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I forgot this is only for ladies. You can’t have tea with us. Gentlemen aren’t allowed.”
    He placed his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded. How could you be so cruel as to deny me the pleasure of your company?”
    Rosie looked at Cecelia. “Could he please stay?” she implored. “I’ve hurt his feelings. I didn’t mean to.”
    He grinned at her. “Not to worry, midget. I’m teasing you. I must call on our patient and then I have some accounts to go over before I meet with my new man of affairs
    “May I come with you and meet Mon-sieur André?” Rosie asked slowly sounding out her syllables.
    “Not today. He needs to get well first. Then, we’ll see.” He offered an elegant bow to them both. “Continue with your lessons ladies.” Then unexpectedly he tipped Cecelia face up to his, leaned over and gave her a quick but openly demonstrative kiss on the lips. When he pulled away she could see the desire in his expression, a golden glint in his hazel eyes. “And I will see you, my dear wife, this evening.” The tone of his voice was husky. He then turned on his heel and left them.
    Rosie fell into a fit of giggles. “I’ve never seen him kiss anyone before. I think Thomas is in love with you.”
    Cecelia watched as he ambled elegantly toward the house. She certainly hoped so.