Page 61 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“And I shall have a pleasant time peeling away your clothing to look for stray grains,” he whispered. Just like that, her body was flooded with heat and desire.
“Hush, we haven’t even had our wedding feast.”
Today was so different, so full of hope and light. If they could just find a way to send Walsh and Balfour to prison, they could live like this every day, with joy rather than always looking over their shoulders.
“Come along,wife,” Kit teased as he led her to their waiting coach.
Her first glimpse of Kentwell House was through a wooded path lined with towering rhododendrons heavy in bloom. It reminded her of an old fairy tale castle that lay forgotten deep in the woods, hidden by enchantments of an old sorceress. An ancient magic hung in the air. She’d always liked old places, like crumbling castles and ancient rambling manor houses. Her father used to take her for picnics near old ruins. She would bring her sketch pad and try to capture the beauty of these forgotten places with her pencil.
Kentwell House was an old stone manor that, judging by the structure of the architecture, she guessed was built in the late 1600s. It was not done in the Tudor style, but a more medieval stonework. Green ivy flourished along the west wing, and in the east was a delightful mess of wildflowers and English roses where the garden had been left unattended for years.
The coach stopped, and Kit leapt out to help her down. She removed her bonnet and gloves, letting her bonnet hang like a basket by its ribbons on her arm as she followed Kit up the steps. Four other coaches soon followed, but Suzannah ignored the other guests as she waited for Kit to open the large oak door. When he did, her breath caught at the sight of the home’s interior. Through the dust and the gloom, she saw the old glory of this place gleaming with promise. It was a manor waiting to be lived in, to belovedagain. She bit her lip and followed Kit inside.
We are here,she thought.We are home.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Is it worth saving?”
She looked from her husband to the house, fighting back tears as she knew what he was truly asking her.
“Yes, most definitely worth saving.”
A smile spread across Kit’s face so bright that she felt it illuminate her like a late-spring sun.
“It will require a bit of work,” he added.
She smiled back. “I’m not afraid of work. But first we have guests to tend to, and then our honeymoon.”
The scoundrel playfully leered at her. “I need no reminding ofthat, darling wife. I promise you shall bewellravished.”
“I shall hold you to that promise, husband.” And she would, because Kit was an exquisite lover. All she had to do was hurry this wedding breakfast along so she and Kit could run off to the nearest bedchamber.
15
There was something wonderfully wicked about watching her half-naked husband dig up dead plants in the garden while Suzannahpretendedto sketch the flowers and the house instead of his glorious body.
Suzannah had done a few quick sketches of the plants, of course, but the pages beneath that first were only of Kit. She had done her best to capture his powerful frame and the ribbons of muscle that defined his arms, and she was fairly satisfied with her work. Late-afternoon sunshine gleamed off his sweaty skin as he toiled away. Suzannah could not imagine any other titled gentleman would do such work shirtless, shovel in hand, working the land with such fervor and passion. The years Kit had labored in Australia had made him capable of handling any task set before him.
Suzannah, however, was more than content to sit upon the stone bench, her bright pink skirts pooled around her, to sketch and embrace the cool breeze. It had been two wonderful weeks since they’d arrived at Kentwell House for their wedding breakfast. Once the guests had gone, she and Kit had the house to themselves, except for Henry. Kit had taken the boy to the pond every day to fish on the dock, just the two of them. She had observed them in deep conversation from time to time. When she asked Henry once what he and Kit talked about, the young man had squared his shoulders and shook his head.
“’Tis subjects for gentlemen,” was all the boy would say.
Naturally curious, Suzannah had climbed onto Kit’s lap that evening, and after a fair number of coaxing kisses, she’d gotten him to reveal the general nature of his and Henry’s discussions.
“I tell him the things my father told me at his age. Things about how a man should act, how he should treat women, how to conduct his business with honor. We live in a world where titles make a man, but someday things here will be more like in Australia where a man is judged by his deeds, not his birth. Henry shall need to learn to stand on his own as a good man.”
After that, Suzannah hadn’t worried about their secret talks. Whatever Kit was telling her young friend, it could only be to his benefit.
Everyone in the house, even the servants, soon fell into an easy rhythm of life, as if they had all lived there for decades. Suzannah woke every morning to Kit’s eager mouth upon her body and his hands gently exploring her until she was begging for him to take her. As she lay sated and drowsy in bed, he and Henry would head for the pond, before returning to have lunch with her. And while Henry rested, she and Kit would tackle some part of the house or the grounds that needed their attention.
Often she would end up sketching new concepts for renovation or ways to rearrange the furniture while Kit did most of the heavy lifting. They worked together wherever they could, cleaning up the house and making a decent list of repairs needed, as well as furniture they would like to replace. They had also created a list of staff positions that would need to be filled. Suzannah had been concerned about the cost, but Kit’s financial position was far better than when he’d left, thanks to his friends convincing his father to invest his remaining funds with Ashton Lennox.
Just after he’d been sentenced, his father had used most of his fortunes to help get Kit’s sentence commuted from death to transportation, but after Kit had been sent to Australia, Lennox had stepped in and helped his father recover financially. The baron had a talent for doubling or tripling investments, and the fortune spent on saving Kit’s neck from the noose had not only been recovered but added to. Once assured these changes to the house would barely touch Kit’s wealth, she gave in to her own excitement at the possibilities of restoration and redecoration of the estate.
Having finished his work on the garden for now, Kit abandoned his digging and wiped his face on a cloth before coming toward her. She realized too late that Kit was stalking her like a tiger in the grass, and she squealed when he scooped her up from the bench and carried her to a large blanket he had laid out on the grass nearby.
“Kit!” She dropped her sketch pad in an attempt to hold on to him. He caught the book with one hand before he settled her beneath him on the grass. He placed his knees on either side of her body, trapping her beneath him as he opened the book of her drawings. His eyes widened, then narrowed.
“These are someinterestingsketches of flowers,” he mused as he paged through another few sketches. “Although the subject of your work seems to have shifted from flora to fauna.”
