Page 8 of A Wild English Rose
He brushed a hand along her arm and pulled her close. She caught the smell of his bad breath. His hand then moved to her knee. “Well you could make redecorating the house one of your projects when you come to live here. Though I don’t know how much energy you will have each day after I have finished with you in my bed,” he whispered in her ear.
She shuddered involuntarily, unable to hide her disgust at his touch and smell.
He tightened his grip on her knee. “Don’t be shy, my dear. I know you are not a virgin. Your reputation is already tainted. But I don’t mind used goods. It means on our wedding night, I shall be able to ride you with abandon. Tell me, have you learned to suck cock?”
She shook her head, repulsed by the thought of touching any part of him. A glass or two of something stiff like a strong brandy would have been most welcome.
Lord Horsham withdrew his hand and sat back on the couch. Cecily gritted her teeth in an attempt not to sigh with relief.
“Never mind. You can be trained,” he said.
“You mentioned about refurbishing the house; I would like to undertake that task. Some brighter colors and newer furniture could lift these rooms,” she said. Anything to change the topic.
“If you are going to undertake any changes to the house, you can start with the nursery. Provide me with an heir. After that, you can do whatever you like with the rest of the house, and your time,” he said.
“A library with books for the children would be next. I should like our children to be well-educated,” she replied.I cannot believe I am having this conversation.
Lord Horsham snorted. “Yes, well I shall engage nursemaids and governesses for that purpose. I will decide on the upbringing of any children you produce. You of course, could not be trusted to make those sorts of decisions.”
His words shook sense back into Cecily. For the briefest of moments, she had begun to imagine what it would be like living in this house as the wife of a man old enough to be her grandfather. A man unlikely to see his children grow to adulthood.
“But shouldn’t I have a say in our children’s upbringing? To put it delicately, Lord Horsham, you are not a young man. I shall need to know how to manage things when the inevitable happens,” she replied.
She didn’t wish him ill health, rather, she was seeking to find a practical solution to a situation she would more than likely have to face in the coming years.
He waved her concerns away. “Don’t worry about any of that, my dear girl. Your father will take over the estate if my son has not come of age when I pass. He will handle all the money and take charge of the children. He will have guardianship over the entire estate.”
The marquis put his hand on her knee once more, then began to move it higher up her leg. Cecily pushed his groping hand away and got to her feet.
“I suggest we wait until we are married for any further intimacies, your lordship. I shall adjourn to the hall in anticipation of my father’s return,” she said, heading for the door.
She raced out into the hallway and nearly bowled the butler over in her haste to be out of the house. Once she was outside in the street, she quickly hailed a hack.
She was not going to wait for her father’s return—she had to escape.
Chapter Eight
Thomas put the last of his travel sweets into his bag and climbed into the Rosemount family travel coach. He was glad to be heading home. Grimy, overcrowded London was not his favorite place.
Dropping his travel bag into the storage area under the bench seat of the coach he lowered the lid. He then opened a book, intent on trying to find something to occupy his mind.
His only regret at leaving London was that he had been granted only the one private morning with Lady Cecily Norris. His humor had since been tested every time he thought of her and the man she was about to marry.
The most interesting and attractive young woman he’d had the pleasure to meet was about to be wasted on an old man who would likely have hands of ice. When he thought of Cecily submitting herself to Lord Horsham, he wanted to punch something. Lord Norris would have been his first choice.
The wealth and privilege Cecily’s marriage would give her would be at the cost of her wild heart. While trained horses were allowed to keep their untamed spirits, hers would be undoubtedly crushed.
“And you think you could have made her a better husband? You are little more than a boring country squire with the smell of the stables in his hair. The only advantage you have over Horsham is your age,” he muttered.
The coach turned out of the mews and headed toward the Great North Road. They changed horses at Stevenage, some forty miles from London. Not expecting to arrive at his overnight stay at Huntingdon for many hours yet, Thomas purchased two cold pork pies and a salted beef sandwich at the coaching inn. That, and several bottles of ale, had him set nicely for the rest of the journey. Pie in hand, he settled back into reading his book.
The state of the roads deteriorated the farther north the coach travelled. Well paved roads gave way to badly patched up ones which had not seen better days since Roman times.
He had just finished the first of his pies when the coach hit a large bump in the road. He flew up from the bench and landed back down with a heavy thud.
“For the love of Saint Anne, can your man learn to drive!”
Where did that come from?
