Page 39 of A Gentleman's Offer
‘Never mind me,’ he said between kisses. ‘I shall not die of it. It’s not so very long until we will be married, and there can be no question of debt between us, even a debt as delicious as this one. I will not take you here, however comfortable this sofa is. We have soft beds and short summer nights and long, long summer days in our future, my dearest love.’
‘You paint a delightful picture,’ she said, stretching like a cat and smiling up at him. ‘But nonetheless, I have been brought up to believe in equality between the sexes, and therefore, sir, I think it is high time you locked the door!’
EPILOGUE
TEN WEEKS LATER
Dominic and his three companions crested the wooded ridge that overlooked his country house and looked down into the hidden valley below, catching their breath for a moment. It was late afternoon in a glorious September, and the old stone building was bathed in rich golden light, as if it had been dipped in honey. The central portion, which bore traces of the battlements and narrow arrow-slit windows that betrayed its ancient origin as a border castle, stood higher than the more modern, symmetrical wings on each side. On the central terrace, above the banks of white and purple flowers, he could see Meg, a tiny figure at this distance and yet one who held his heart entire and safe in her hands. She was tidying away her papers, he could see, weighting down the loose pages securely with a bright Venetian glass paperweight he’d given her and setting her writing table straight; she must have done working for the day. She was alone, but as he watched he saw Annie come out to join her for a rare moment of shared peace; he could hear his nephews scrambling about behind him, looking for the perfect tree to climb and pestering their father with endless questions that he answered with astonishing patience.
The Gilbert family had not been here before, and the boys seemed to be loving every moment of their stay, not least because De Lacy Court offered them opportunities for constant mischief, with its many panelled rooms, hidden staircases, extensive grounds, and the River Wye close by with its deep swimming pools. It was a wonderful place for children, Dominic thought, though he hadn’t spent much time here in his own boyhood, because his mother disliked the remoteness of the place. But there was plenty of time for such matters in his own future; in a fortnight or so, he and his bride would be taking ship for France and all the adventures that the Continent had to offer them. Paris first, and then wherever their fancies took them.
His brother-in-law Tom came to stand by his side, a solid figure with a ready smile and an air of calm competence. ‘The boys were wondering if we could go fishing tomorrow morning, Dom, though myself, I’d think that every fish with any sense for ten miles in either direction has been scared away and won’t come back till these two monsters leave.’
‘Do fish have sense?’ Toby asked. ‘They don’t look as if they do. They look calm, mostly, but quite stupid.’
‘Fishy sense enough to avoid you,’ his father told him. ‘Your mother would tell me it is wrong to bet, but I would wager a chocolate cake against either of you catching anything – or any of the rest of us, for that matter, with you splashing about and causing a great commotion. And I expect at least one of you will make sure to fall in.’
‘It’s not falling in if you mean to do it, Papa,’ Nick told him seriously.
‘Well, I don’t mean to do it. Not with my favourite boots on. When you do fall in, your uncle can pull you out.’
‘I may, or I may not,’ Dominic said. ‘It depends on how irritating you are being. Shall we head back now, urchins? It’ll be time for you two to eat your supper soon. I expect you’re hungry.’
‘We’re always hungry!’ they chorused, and Nick added, ‘We will ruin you utterly with… with our ’normous appetites, Mama says!’
‘Let’s go, then, while your legs are still strong enough to support you,’ Tom Gilbert agreed. ‘I’m sure your mother and Aunt Meg must have had more than enough peace and quiet by now. They’ll probably be bored with it, and missing us, and finding the house altogether too quiet.’
The boys ran yelling down the slope, dodging agilely between the trees until they reached an expanse of sheep-cropped grass, at which point they lay down and began to roll with increasing speed down the hill. Their father and uncle followed them more sedately. ‘I think I can see an episode of picking sheep shit out of two very dirty coats – which were no doubt clean this morning – in your immediate future, Tom,’ Dominic said with the breezy unconcern of the currently childless.
‘I don’t doubt it. If I’m really lucky, they’ll find where a fox has been, and roll in that, as dogs do.’ Dominic shuddered fastidiously and agreed that this horror seemed all too likely.
The boys had been packed off into Hannah’s care for a much-needed bath by the time the men reached the terrace, and indeed, two small, filthy jackets sat waiting, along with a stiff brush, for Tom’s fatherly attentions. ‘I refuse to allow those garments in the house in that condition,’ Annie told her husband with mock severity as he grimaced comically and agreed that he would of course deal with the revolting objects to the best of his ability before handing them over to the servants for proper cleaning.
The ladies had been drinking something cold and pink from frosted glasses, and Meg rose to fill two more from a crystal jug. ‘It will be nice to have a quiet evening, just the four of us, before the hordes descend tomorrow,’ she told them, smiling. Mrs Greystone, Lady Nightingale, Maria, Lady Primrose and her sister Lady Violet were all expected some time the next afternoon, with, naturally, the indispensable masculine escort of Mr Francis Nightingale to ensure their safety. Dominic knew that Meg looked forward eagerly to seeing how the matchmaking plans were proceeding, and confessed to a little curiosity on the matter himself. Francis deserved to be as gloriously happy as the rest of the family, he thought. The sale of Nightingale manuscripts had been arranged for later in the autumn and was already causing a great stir in antiquarian circles; Francis was managing everything magnificently, and Mr Clarke had proved to be so indispensable that Lady Primrose was seriously contemplating him as a match for another of her sisters.
The new Lady De Lacy handed her husband his glass, and he pulled her down to sit on his lap for a moment, putting his free arm about her and inhaling the intoxicating scent of her hair as she rested contentedly against him. Lieutenant and Mrs Gilbert, some eight years married, smiled tolerantly at the lovers and strolled away arm in arm, making a tactful pretence of admiring the glories of the late summer garden, and the rich colours in the sky that presaged another spectacular sunset over the Welsh hills.
‘How is your Melusina doing?’ he murmured, brushing her bright curls with a kiss as she settled more comfortably into his embrace.
‘Oh, terribly, poor thing,’ she told him, blue eyes sparkling with laughter. ‘It’s a curious circumstance, but she can barely go a day without falling into some dreadful danger through the machinations of the evil Count Malabarba and his henchmen.’
‘I particularly enjoyed it when she was tied to the bed in the lonely turret, her clothes in utter rags,’ he said, tightening his arm about her and setting down his glass the better to hold her as she wriggled deliciously against him in full awareness of what she was doing to his self-control. Dinner might well be a little late tonight, he thought. ‘You know I’m always happy to help with research. It’s my husbandly duty, in fact, and as such I take it very seriously. What do you have in mind for her this time, poor suffering creature?’
Lady Nightingale’s publisher had offered Meg a contract, on reasonable terms, if she could have her manuscript finished before she left for France. He planned to publishThe Italian Twins’ Tribulations, or Melusina and Marianna, anonymously, with its author described tantalisingly on an elaborate title page as A Noble Young Lady, Lately Married to a Gentleman of Fashion. It should do rather well, he had assured her.
‘I’m almost finished,’ she told him with a quick smile. ‘This last scene of deadly peril is to be the final one, the climax of the whole story, you might say, and so must be something special.’
‘Do you have any ideas for this, er, climax?’ She almost always had ideas, he’d found. And he too was not uninventive. In that respect, as in so many others, they found themselves well matched.
‘One or two…’ she said, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. There was not the least need – there was no one nearby to overhear, however shocking and unladylike her words might be – but as her sweet breath tickled his skin and her fingers slipped inside his jacket to toy purposefully with the fastening of his shirt, Dominic had no objection.
‘Time to change for dinner,’ he told her, standing easily with her in his arms and carrying her inside, through the quiet old hall and up the elaborately carved wooden staircase towards the large four-poster bed that awaited them in their chamber.
‘It’s hours till dinner, sir,’ she teased. ‘Am I to be ravished repeatedly, like poor Melusina?’
‘I like the sound of “repeatedly”,’ he said as he carried her. Her arms were about his neck and his hand caressed the swell of her thigh just where it met her bottom. There were fabrics between them currently – muslin and lawn and cotton, buckskin leather and wool and linen, but soon they would be naked, or naked enough, and able to give and receive pleasure, and learn each time a little more about each other, in a joyful journey of discovery that they had barely begun.
‘Though Melusina is never completely ravished, as I understand it, but is always rescued at the last possible moment,’ he told her as they reached the top of the stair and set out along the minstrels’ gallery. ‘It must be exceedingly tiresome for the poor girl, I should think. But I swear that you shall not escape my wicked plans, my lady!’ He achieved an evil laugh, echoing around the great hall very much in the style of one of her villains, that made her giggle as she clung to him.
