Page 35 of Moonlight Encounter
Buttercup whined at their feet, a dangling tongue hanging out of her mouth as if to agree with Octavia’s lewd assessment.
Gwen blushed, well aware that when she did so, it was a fiery red that spread quickly from her décolletage, up her neck and across her face. The roots of her hair were practically singed by the increase in heat. She said nothing, knowing Octavia could evaluate the answer without comment.
The servant shot her a sideways glance. “I thought so. Just think—tonight’s your wedding night. You’ll have the opportunity to behold … first hand.” Again the cupping motion, the implication crystal clear.
Gwen exhaled in a puff, the thought of Aidan entering her bedroom ensuring that the blush did not subside even a fraction. She certainly had thought about what it would be like to kiss in privacy, remove his coat and run her hands on that broad chest that felt so hard pressed against the mounds of her breasts.
“Did you ever find out why the wedding was delayed ’til now?” Octavia must have taken pity on the beleaguered Gwen, shifting the subject to less … passionate … subjects.
“It was to allow for his cousin to return from Somerset for the wedding. Lord Moreland was adamant that the scandal had sufficiently abated with news of the wedding to send for his niece and her family to attend. Apparently, she grew up with Aidan and his sister in their household.”
Octavia tilted her head, obviously perplexed. Then her eyes widened in alarm. “Do you mean the Countess of Saunton?”
“I think that was it. Lady Sophia Balfour.”
Her lady’s maid emitted a choking sound. “Lord Saunton’s accompanying her?”
Gwen nodded, turning from the hall to peer at Octavia in surprise. “Yes, what of it?”
“Do you know who Lord Saunton is?”
“No, not really.”
“His father was Lord Satan, the infamous defiler of servants. I heard that the younger Lord Saunton followed in his footsteps until he unexpectedly wed a girl he barely knew. Last year, he acknowledged that he had sired a bastard with a maid. The boy’s now living with them.”
This news seemed out of character from what Octaviahad told her of the Abbott family. “Why would a prestigious family allow such a match?” she wondered out loud before an alarming thought struck. “Do we need to warn the women belowstairs to be careful?”
Octavia raised a hand to nibble on a thumbnail, her tension etched in the lines of her wide face. Dropping her hand, the servant straightened up. “I’ve not heard anything recently, but I’ll inform the housekeeper. Cook will know if there is any risk involved in serving him.”
“Perhaps the maids should remain out of sight until he departs. The footmen could take over their duties on the main level.”
The lady’s maid nodded, darting off in a manner that reminded Gwen of the starlings that visited the Smythe gardens. As she raced down the hall, Octavia’s gray skirts fluttered behind her like their palpitating wings while her head bobbed in the same agitated manner. Her distress was palpable, and Gwen pouted a lip in contemplation.
Buttercup watched the lady’s maid depart, slightly baring her teeth as if to remark on the dire danger women could find themselves in. Gwen could not blame Buttercup for her sentiments, considering the circumstances of their meeting.
Nevertheless, Gwen could not help but be intrigued. What would it be like to meet such an infamous rogue? It was hardly the kind of gentleman whom her father would invite within their circle, but if the servants were safe, Gwen thought it was all rather exciting to meet such a person and observe his character for herself.
Lady Sophia Balfour allowed his bastard to live in her household! Had the noblewoman been required to do so by her husband? Was she humiliated by the situation?
The link to the Abbott family was certainly unexpected, given everything that Octavia had told her about them.
Turning back into her room, she carefully nudged Buttercup back inside, giving her a quick scratch before shutting the door to go stand in front of the mirror.
Signora Ricci had made her a gown of azure for the nuptials this morning, and the fine blue silk clung to her slight curves. Gwen had ordered it, thinking of how Aidan had compared her to theBirth of Venus, thinking that the soft blue was reminiscent of a hazy morning by the sea. Gwen had been more adventurous about offsetting the red of her hair against the hue, hoping that Aidan had been sincere in his admiration of her ginger tresses.
Nerves fluttered in the region of her stomach, and Gwen considered if she should descend to meet the arriving guests with her father on her own, or await the return of Octavia to accompany her. Then she recollected the last interaction her lady’s maid had had with Lady Moreland and winced.
She had a sneaking suspicion that Octavia, having been rather intimidated by Aidan’s mother, might use this opportunity to remain out of sight.
Alone it is.
Squaring her shoulders, she summoned her confidence, assuring herself she had assessed Aidan’s preferences correctly.
She had, despite her cynicism, developed a number of hopes about this unexpected match. Her father’s optimism had infected her, and Gwen prayed she would not regret opening up her mind to the possibilities of a grand future with an intelligent and handsome gentleman at her side. After so many miserable years circulating the edges of thebeau monde, Gwen crossed her fingers that all would be well with her and Aidan.
Preparing to depart her room, she turned to Buttercup and said, “Sorry, girl. This is not the time to follow me.”
The little dog whined in protest, wiggling her bottom against the floor, but remained seated near the mirror as if she planned to wait for Gwen’s return.
