Chapter 20
Five days they had been travelling home and Emily could swear the weather was wetter than when they had left. Every night at the inn, a maid would clean her half boots and dry them by the fire and every day they would be soaked by the time she got to the carriage. Gideon had offered to carry her through the mud but that would be so debasing.
The hems of her gowns were all now utterly ruined. She had complained about this to Gideon just the previous night when they had been lying in bed. He had chuckled, kissed her deeply and promised to take her to London and buy her a whole new wardrobe befitting of a viscountess. Emily had sat up, indignant.
“There is nothing wrong with my gowns, except for the ruined hems.”
“I did not say there was, but you can wear deeper colours now you are a married lady. The dirt is not as noticeable.”
She had not considered it until that moment. Perhaps her odd spillage would also not be so noticeable.
He had been lying watching her, his eyes hooded with lust. “Your mind is working nineteen to the dozen Viscountess Beattie. What are you thinking? I become nervous when you start plotting, you know.”
“Nothing of any import.”
“I do not believe you.” He had caught her and tickled her until she had confessed, then he had declared it a terrible secret and not worth all the fuss. After that, he had positioned her astride him, shown her how to take him inside of her and how to ride them both to release. It had been wonderful. She had been in full control and Gideon had run his hands all over her body, speaking loving words to her until his release was near. Eventually, his words became profanities as he started to thrust up into her. As his body stiffened and she felt his hot release inside her he told her he loved her.
Emily’s own release was upon her and she wondered if Gideon knew she had heard his declaration. She had not returned it. She had not known what to say. He had not repeated it. Perhaps he had not meant it.
Now they were trundling on along in a silent carriage, books at their sides, Emily’s head resting on his chest and Gideon occasionally pressing tender kisses to the crown of her head.
“Gideon, may I ask a question?”
“Oh God. Not if it’s about bloody Byron.”
“You have answered all my questions about George Byron, thank you very much.”
“George, is it? You are on first name terms with his Lordship, are you?”
“May I ask my question or not, Your Lordship?”
“I am shaking in my Hessians, knowing the sort of questions you ask, my love. I may prefer to face down the whole of Napoleon Bonaparte’s forces than have to face another of your questions, but go ahead.”
“I wondered if, when a lord and lady were forced to marry due to an indiscretion on the lady’s part, after six nights of marriage, it would be truly gauche for the lady to tell the gentleman that she loves him. What do you think?”
He raised an imperious eyebrow at her and a smile tugged at his lips but he looked like he was considering the question when his lips pursed.
“Six nights, eh? Hmm, it would depend entirely if the lady and gentleman had got to know each other beforehand. Say, in a long carriage ride to Scotla… What the devil?”
The carriage was slowing down and there were shouts from outside the carriage.
The door opened and a man with his face covered pointed a pistol through the door.
“Not again,” Emily heard herself saying.
“Give me your jewels and money.”
Gideon sighed as Emily pushed herself back into her seat. Oh, why did she not ask Aunt Gertrude if she had any more of those fake jewels? Perhaps Gideon had some stored somewhere.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Gideon placed his hand over the end of the pistol and pushed the highwayman backwards as he himself jumped out of the carriage, splashing mud everywhere. Emily scrambled over to that side of the carriage to watch the drama unfold. The young highwayman yelped as Gideon yanked the gun out of his hand and caught him by the throat, shoving him hard against the side of the coach.
“Denholm, get his accomplice. This one looks no more than eleven or twelve. His accomplice can’t be more than seven. He’s in the trees. I doubt he can carry that pistol any distance, far less shoot the damned thing.
Denholm was already down from the carriage and Emily saw that he was heading toward the boy and John, the stable hand was flanking him on the other side. They were so brave.
“He’s just a boy, Gideon,” Emily said, as Gideon pulled off the handkerchief hiding the young man’s face.
“Old enough to wave pistols in the faces of ladies, aren’t you, lad?”
“Please my lord, let my li’l brother go. He’s just a nipper. He don’t know what he’s doing. Hang me but not him.”
Hang him! Emily gasped. Would Gideon really have this child hanged?
“What age are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Once I handed you over my jewels, what were you going to do with them?”
“Give them to my stepfather. He’ll try to sell them at the market for food.”
“And do you think there is a trade for jewels around these parts at present?”
“I’d get more money for a loaf of bread than a diamond, my lord.”
“And your stepfather?” There was a sound in the trees and a man on horseback broke through them and into the field beyond, galloping away from him.
The boy closed his eyes. “Guess he didn’t want to get hanged too.”
“Will you go back to him if I let you go?”
“Don’t know where he lives. We walked here for days. Me and … my brother.”
“You do not know where you live?”
“No, my lord. Tis far away though.”
The smaller boy was being brought by the scruff of the neck up to Gideon. He had a large bruise on his face, but it was old. It had not been dealt by Denholm or John. That much Emily could tell. The boy’s eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking like a leaf on a tree in a stiff breeze.
“And your mother?”
“She died a few months ago in childbed. He got her with child and she died having it. Mrs Jamieson, the vicar’s wife said it was her own fault for getting with child before she were wed, but he said it came early. He said it were Jack’s fault it came early cause Jack ran away.”
Gideon shook his head.
“Who the devil is Jack?”
“I am Jack,” said the small boy.
Gideon raised an eyebrow at the little one. “Are you indeed and why did you run away?”
“He were gonna kill me, he said cause I let the pigs out by mistake. I couldn’t close the gate. It were too heavy, see.” Then the little boy put both hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with terror again.
Oh, this was no good. Emily jumped down from the carriage, splashing even more mud all over the place and Gideon had to throw out a hand to save her from falling. He had loosened his grip on the older boy. It appeared that her husband’s aristocratic glare was enough to keep the young man in place.
“And what is your name? Your brother is Jack.”
“Gerald, my lord.”
Emily crouched down beside the smaller boy and pulled him into a hug. She saw her husband roll his eyes but she cared not.
“It seems, Gerald, that my viscountess has a tender heart. When you are a grown man, you shall understand why it is a good thing to stay on good terms with your wife. When did you last eat?”
“I found some berries this morning, my lord.”
Gideon took the boys chin in his hand and lifted it up. “So, I see. The evidence is all over your face, but when did you last eat a meal?”
“A meal?”
“Yes, Gerald. You know, potatoes, stew, oatmeal, something filling.”
The boy shook his head. “We’ve been out here fer days. Mr Bates carn’t cook and his mistress, well she’s just a lass.”
“He has a mistress already.”
“I think she’s goin’ to have his babe. She keeps casting up her accounts in the mornin’. That’s what happened to me mother just before she told us she were having his babe.”
“Sounds like a grave possibility. So, if I were to tell you to get out of here and go home, what would happen to you?”
The boy shrugged. Gideon looked at Jack then at Emily. Emily caught her husband’s gaze and willed him to have mercy on these boys. He could not leave them here in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves, could he? She knew not to say anything. It had to be his choice. And they had tried to rob them.
“Lady Beattie, that horse looks hungry. Do we have any food in the carriage?”
Emily caught the gleam in Gideon’s eye. Perhaps he was as soft-hearted as she.
“I did bring some bread, cheese and a little meat from the inn when we set off, this morning, my lord. Do you think the horse would like that?”
“I believe the horse is a beggar and cannot be fussy, my lady. Denholm, be a good chap and fetch it for us. Is it under the seat, my love?”
“It is.”
He nodded to the coachman who moved inside the coach to do his master’s bidding. Denholm appeared a few moments later holding a couple of large handkerchiefs filled with bread, cheese and meat as Emily had said. She always brought a little extra food with them in case they got stuck in the mud. Gideon had initially laughed at her for doing it, but he had come to agree that it was a sensible precaution.
Emily expected Gideon to continue to play the game with the boys and tease them, but their eyes were so large with longing when they saw the food, clearly her husband’s ire with the children crumbled.
“Go on then. Jack, you take something first, but leave something for your brother.”
Jack took a small slice of bread and some cheese and waited for his brother to take an equally small amount of food. Neither boy ate.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Gideon, frowning.
“Are you not eating too?” Gerald asked. “We must wait for the lady.”
“I am not hungry. You eat,” Emily said. “Please. Eat it all between you.” Gideon nodded and shook the food slightly at them. Gerald looked at his brother and shrugged then took a bite, closing his eyes as he did so. Poor little mites.
Gideon handed Gerald the closed handkerchief filled with food. “Go and sit at the side of the road, on the grass with Jack and eat.”
“They can’t sit there. It’s wet,” Emily protested.
“We’re always wet, my lady. We haven’t been dry for weeks. We’re fine sitting on the grass.”
It was Gideon’s turn to shrug and Emily gave a frustrated little sigh.
“Speaking of getting wet, you shall be getting soaking and I do not want you getting a chill. Get back in the carriage.”
Emily glared at him. “You don’t mind children getting soaked though.”
“They are urchins, my love. They are used to it.”
“They are babes.” He lifted her bodily and placed her inside the carriage then started to force his own way inside. “Oh, you are impossible. What if they were our children, Gideon?”
“Our children would not be attempting to be highwaymen.”
“Only because they will have better opportunities in life. That pure luck, Gideon. One child is born the heir of a viscount, another’s mother dies in childbed leaving him with a violent step-father who abandons him. It’s so unfair.”
Gideon ran his hand through his wet curls. He had left the carriage without a hat. His coat was wet through, his face wet and Emily could tell from the set of his jaw that his temper was frayed.
“No one ever said life was fair, my love.” Emily opened her mouth to speak but he raised a finger and she shut her mouth to let him carry on. “We cannot leave them here. They can ride in one of the grain carriages until they dry out and then we shall make sure that Denholm and John look after them in the servants’ quarters. I am sure on my vast estate, I can find work for a strong lad and we can put them both into school. Jack can help out in the kitchens until he is old enough. Perhaps he’ll be good with horses. Who knows. It is just as well for you that you married a Whig, my love. God knows how many arguments you would have had, were it a Tory whom you had kissed awake that fateful day.”
Emily smiled. “I could tell, even as you slept, that you were a kind and honest man.”
“You could?”
“Oh yes. You have a lovely face when you sleep.”
“And awake?”
“You scowl too much.”
“Only when you ask silly questions about exiled poets with questionable proclivities.”
“You stopped scowling soon after you explained that.”
“My mind was otherwise engaged.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Stop smiling lasciviously, Lady Beattie, here come the children.” Emily bit her lip and wished she did not blush so easily.
“Thank you, my lord,” said Gerald. “’Ave, you decided if Jack is goin’ ta hang too.”
Gideon climbed down from the carriage and told Gerald that neither of them would hang. He offered to take them back to Herefordshire and let them work on his estate, on one condition—that they go to the village school for lessons. Both boys bowed low and promised to behave themselves. Gideon put them in the smaller carriage that transported maize and Emily winced as she heard him threaten to shoot them through the head if they tried to escape. She looked at the pistols lying on their seat. She moved them gingerly and sat down then picked up both weapons.
When Gideon returned he raised both eyebrows and both arms.
“Whatever you want is yours, my lady. Gowns, jewels, gloves, hats, shoes, sexual favours.” She laughed as he stepped into the carriage. “I shall even do it like Lord Byron as long as you do not put a lead ball through my chest.”
“Write poetry?” she asked, handing him the pistols.
“I would be a terrible poet.”
“I have noticed.”
He placed the pistols under the seats after having un-cocked them
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. After all, what kind of poet would tell his wife that he loves her as he releases his seed into her body and then would not mention it until they were about to be set upon by highwaymen the next day?”
“The type of poet who loves his wife so much that he wanted her to be able to declare her love for him in her own time without feeling forced into it.”
“And if his wife does not feel the same way.”
“Then the poet would have to punish his wife for telling untruths because before the children stopped the carriage, the wife had just let it be known that she loved her husband.”
“Punishment?” Heat rushed to her core and her nipples hardened at the very thought. Emily glanced down at the falls of Gideon’s breeches. He had a veritable bulge there.
Gideon’s gaze roved up her body. They had been good since they had left Aelton Manor and kept their sexual activities to the inn bedchambers, but he was like a leashed wild animal now.
“Take off the pelisse, Emily.”
She removed it as he undid the falls of his breeches and released his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly as he slid down the squabs slightly until his knees touched the seat in front.
“There,” she pronounced sitting primly beside him but licking her lips as she looked at his hard length being expertly manipulated.
“Slide over here and straddle me. You shall need to hitch up your gown.”
It was a difficult manoeuvre in a moving carriage but Gideon held her steady as she adjusted her skirts.
“You have done this before,” she accused.
He grinned. “No, but I have had seven days on the way to Scotland and five days on the way back to figure out the logistics of how to do it. You do not suppose I was reading all this time, do you, my love?”
“You were working out how to tumble me in the carriage?”
“Y-e-e-es. You disapprove?”
“Not at all. I am disappointed it took you twelve days.”
He bit his lip as he tried not to smile. “You are a most impudent wife.”
“I believe you like your impudent wife, Lord Beattie.”
He held himself with one hand, raised her knee onto the seat beside him and guided her down so that she took him fully inside her. Emily sighed as Gideon groaned, almost feral. He caught her other knee up and guided it onto the seat. All the time, making sure she did not topple. Then he clasped her around the waist and helped her to ride him.
He pulled her face down to his shoulder.
“Correction. I love my impudent wife. Now keep your head low, my love. If you start banging your head on the carriage roof, firstly you will end up with an egg on your skull and secondly, Denholm will know what we are doing.”
“I suspect Denholm knows fine what we are doing,” she said as worked herself up and down his hard length.
“Possibly, but let us not leave him without doubt altogether.”
She chuckled and he turned his head and captured her lips.
Emily really did like being married, and she really did love her husband.