Chapter Eighteen

 

 

Letitia looked around the dining table and realized how happy she was to be home again. The lights of Ridlington had appeared through her carriage window very late the night before, and she’d taken advantage of her own suite by sleeping away a great deal more of the day than she was used to.

Edmund noticed her grin. “Yes, we’re rather provincial after London, aren’t we? I assume that realization is making you smirk like that.”

She chuckled as all eyes turned to her. “Oh yes, dreadfully poor form” she fanned herself. “If it ever got out that I love dining en famille, I cannot begin to imagine how Society would gossip.”

“I can,” answered Tabby, turning her lips down into a droop. “They’d be horrified, whisper about you behind their fans and eventually ostracize you, until the next scandal, upon which they’d trot back up to you and ask if you didn’t agree that it was just awful…”

Laughter rippled around the room, charming Letitia. Simon and Tabby had joined them as part of the welcome-home contingent, and it was good to see them there. They were happy and the affection between them was obvious.

Two Ridlingtons had found that kind of joy. But both were men.

She shunned that train of thought, and turned to Harriet. “It’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed,” chuckled Harriet. “I, for one, would much rather be here.”

Letitia had been surprised to find her at the dining table, but apparently the habit had begun when Rosaline had suggested Hugh join them and he had stayed for the meal, with Harriet.

One thing led to another, and now Harriet was part of the extended family, which position was more in keeping with her status.

“No problems with the staff, Harry?” Letitia wanted to make sure that this subtle change in her maid’s status wasn’t upsetting the household, so she slipped the question in during the general conversation.

“Not really. A few comments early on, but once I let it slip I wasn’t being paid, they forgave me. And I try to help out where I can. I think the general opinion is that Lady Rosaline might be looking to make me her housekeeper.”

“I’m glad.” Letitia finished her pudding. “But at some point you’ll have to return to your rightful position, you know. Much as I adore your company, this situation cannot remain permanent.”

“I understand that, Letitia. Believe me.” Harriet sighed. “But until I turn twenty-five, I’m somewhat helpless. I have no money to afford a good lawyer, someone who can find out what’s happening to the Selkirk estate, so for now…well, I suppose I’m treading water in a rather warm and lovely pond.”

“We’ll do our best to keep you wet,” giggled Letitia.

After dinner, they all adjourned to the small parlour, relishing the fire and tea. The gentlemen sneaked a snifter of brandy, but Tabby, Rosaline, Letitia and Harriet opted for their customary cups.

Harriet took Letitia’s over to her and set it down on a side table. “I believe I managed to obtain the items on your list, Letitia.” She sat down next to her. “But the last two items haven’t been delivered yet.”

Letitia flashed her a glance. “I see.”

Harriet delicately sipped her tea. “I was a little surprised to see them there,” she said quietly.

“Were you?”

“Well, yes. Although I haven’t been here too long, I do know some of your wardrobe preferences. Silk hasn’t been one of them. At least not in the garments you asked for.”

“True,” agreed Letitia.

“So…” encouraged Harriet.

“Not here. When we’re done.”’

Harriet clenched her jaw. “Of course.” Her teeth rang against the tea cup as she tried to take another sip.

“Please don’t bite a chunk out of that. We’re down half a dozen in that set already.” Rosaline grinned at Harriet.

“I am so clumsy. I miscalculated,” apologized Harriet.

Rosaline waved it aside and sat next to the two women. “So, Letitia. Tell me about London. Who did you meet? Who did you see?” She leaned closer. “Were there any juicy scandals while you were there?”

“Rosaline,” blinked Letitia in surprise. “I’m shocked.”

Her sister-in-law rolled her eyes, making Harriet laugh. “I’m the provincial Mama, remember? I live vicariously through others. Did you see James, for example?”

“I did. We met at a ball in Cavendish Square.”

“Well that sounds most stylish.”

“It was,” nodded Letitia. “Everyone seemed quite charming and intent upon enjoying themselves.” She leaned back. “The ballroom…well, it was huge, of course. That goes without saying. The amount of gold and crystal would have made a Sultan’s palace look shabby, I swear. And the food looked divine…”

“Did you dance?” Harriet had to ask.

“I did. With one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.”

“Oooh.” Tabby drew near. “Do tell.”

“His name was…let me see…Max. Max Seton-Mowbray.  His parents were holding the ball. And oh my goodness, he was a feast for the eyes. Very tall, well built as near as I could judge, and with eyes the blue of a stormy sea. And polite too, not to mention quite quick-witted. I actually think he enjoyed our waltz.”

“Well, my dear girl, if Max Seton-Mowbray enjoyed a waltz with you, then you’re set for life. He’s one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in London at the moment. So many women have set their caps for him, I’m told, but he’s avoided them all.”

Harriet remained silent during this interchange, and Letitia recalled the connection. Time to change the subject. “James seemed well.”

“Is he returning soon?” asked Tabby.

“I’m not sure—I believe his plans were uncertain at the time. But he did promise to let us know when he comes back.”

“It will be nice to see him back. Paul has been looking after FitzArden Hall while he was away.” Rosaline smiled. “I like having a brother again. Even now I’m not quite used to it.”

“He is very charming, Lady Rosaline,” smiled Harriet. “And also very kind.” She went on to tell the ladies about her entertaining drive home in the back of the wagon, perched on a sheepskin pillow. “It was most thoughtful of him.”

Letitia’s eyes narrowed. “Did you happen to see the name of the ale in those barrels?”

Harriet thought for a moment. “Yes. It was Chillendale ale.”

“Uh oh.” Tabby blinked. “Simon is going to be beside himself.”

“Edmund too.”

“Hmm.” Letitia chuckled. “Looks like the gentlemen have bought themselves an early Christmas present.”

 

*~~*~~*

 

Harriet had to wait another hour before she could confront Letitia alone in her bedchamber. And even then, the conversation didn’t begin the way she had anticipated.

“Harriet, I’m so sorry,” apologized Letitia.

“For what?” At a loss, Harriet stared at her.

“For bringing up Seton-Mowbray. I knew the name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until I’d already mentioned him that I recalled why.”

“’Tis no matter,” Harriet brushed the apologies aside. “And I will agree with your assessment. The man is indeed of a very handsome appearance.”

There was a short silence while both women recalled Mr. Max Seton-Mowbray with a certain degree of reverence.

Then Harriet got down to business. “Now. We’re quite alone. Please, dear Letitia, spare me the pain of waiting a moment longer. Why do you need not one, but two, silk nightrails?”

“Because I thought they might be rather nice to sleep in?” Letitia continued brushing her hair in front of her vanity table, with apparent unconcern.

“Nonsense,” retorted Harriet. “You could have learned that any time over the past years.”

“True,” said Letitia.

Harriet observed a tiny grin curving the lips she could see reflected in the vanity mirror. “You are teasing me. It is quite acceptable for you to do that, even though I am in dire distress.”

“Cruel, would you say?”

“Brutal, if you want to know the truth.”

Letitia giggled. “Forgive me. I couldn’t resist the chance to tweak your curiosity just a little bit.” She put down her brush and turned on the stool to face Harriet. “All right. The truth.”

“Yes please.” Harriet perched on the bed.

“James and I are going to fuck.”

Harriet blinked. Drew a breath and choked. And spent the next few minutes having her back soundly slapped by Letitia until she managed to speak without coughing.

“Ow. I’m all right. You can stop hitting me now,” she protested.

“Well you worried me.” Letitia moved back to her seat. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t, if you promise not to drop such an enormously outrageous statement in front of me ever again.”

Letitia nodded. “I promise. But blunt as it was, it is the truth.”

“You and James are going to sleep with each other?”

“I doubt there’ll be much sleeping involved,” grinned Letitia. “But yes. That’s the gist of it.”

“And this is for your book?”

For a moment or two, Harriet could have sworn that she saw a look of yearning flash over Letitia’s face. But then it was gone. “Probably not for Cytherean Tales. Mr. Lesley has it in hand now.” She lifted her chin. “But for the next one, yes. Fucking James will be excellent experience, invaluable research and will add a dimension to my writing that was lacking. Lesley was right in that.”

“You are so blunt,” said Harriet.

“I know it’s not a word heard in the drawing rooms of polite society, Harry. But it does cut through all the absurd euphemisms.”

“Yes, but…”

“It’s what I want, dear girl.”

“Are you sure? Does he have an affection for you? Does he admire you?”

“To judge by the noticeable bulge of his excitement when he touched me the night of the ball, I’d answer yes to both.” She frowned. “Or, wait, let me modify that. He has a most satisfactory physical response to me. And that’s really all I need.”

Chilled by these words, Harriet looked at her friend. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Letitia’s words were far too casual for Harriet’s liking. “I am honest in all things. All I want from James FitzArden is his body, and that will be that. Word of a lady.”

“You’ll be his mistress, then.”

“No.” Letitia snapped back a fast response. “No, never that.”

“And what if James wants more?”

Letitia shrugged. “Dearest friend. What more can there be between us? I’m a Ridlington, with all the damage and unpleasantness that goes along with it. My father cast a long shadow and we’re still in it. No, James will be happy to lie with me, and I shall learn everything I need to know about fucking from a man who knows what he’s doing.”

Harriet thought that statement over for a minute or so. “How do you know that?”

This time, it was Letitia who cleared her throat. “Well…”

“Letitia?”

“It was at the ball,” she sighed. “James had the supper dance. But instead of taking me in to the supper room, he took me to another smaller room in the back of the Seton-Mowbray mansion.” She looked at Harriet. “And he locked the door.”

“Oh. Goodness…” She couldn’t help her eyebrows rising. “And then…”

“Yes. Then,” whispered Letitia. “He touched me, Harriet. With his hands and…and his mouth…and his tongue…” one hand drifted absently to her breast. “Everywhere.”

“Oh God,” blurted Harriet. “Was it…”

“It was wonderful,” sighed Letitia. “The most amazing sensations, and so much more than I could have anticipated.” She looked at Harriet. “You have no idea how different one’s release can be when it’s a man’s hand doing the releasing.”

Harriet frowned and shook her head. “What?”

It was Letitia’s turn to stare at her friend and blink. “You know. Achieving your release.”

Harriet shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Good Lord.” Letitia jumped up and hurried to her desk. “You are so damned intelligent, Harriet. Your wit and your brain and everything…how on earth have you lived this long without knowing how to satisfy your physical needs?” She rummaged through sheaves of paper. “Here.” Pulling a small book from beneath three other ones, she strode to Harriet and held it out toward her.

Harriet eyed it with the same dubious concern she would have given a small rodent in the outstretched hand. “What is it?”

“It is—” Letitia considered her words. “An instructional pamphlet. Take it to your own room. Read it several times. Then try it yourself.”

“I’m not sure this is for me…” she tentatively reached out to accept it.

Letitia snorted. “My dear girl, it’s for every woman. It’s something we should all know about before marriage. And something your husband should definitely know about because if he doesn’t, then you can teach him.”

“Oh no,” said Harriet, horrified. “I couldn’t…”

“Yes you could.” Letitia paused. “Well, all right, it might probably be a difficult conversation. But if you are committed to a happy life with your future husband, whoever that might be, then communication is the key. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t plan on having a husband.”

Letitia opened her mouth—then closed it again. She merely shrugged.

“You see? We are alike, Letitia. Neither of us wants to risk loving a man.”

“I suppose so.”

Harriet looked at the book, handling it as if it were likely to explode any moment. “Did James need you to tell him what to do?”

A fascinating colour spread over Letitia’s cheeks. “Well, no.”

“Ah. A man educated in the ways of women, would you say?”

“Well, yes.” The blush deepened.

“So he assisted you in achieving this…this release sensation?” She waved the book in the air.

“Yes he did.”

“And it was pleasurable?”

“Dear God, Harriet. Yes. Yes, it was astounding.” Letitia groaned and came to the side of the bed. Then she threw herself onto the quilt face down. “It was incredible.”

“I can’t hear you, dear. Your mouth is in the pillow.”

Letitia raised her head and laughed at Harriet, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks bright red.  “It was, not to put too fine a point on it, fucking awesome.”

“I see,” grinned Harriet. “Well then. I’d better go and see what all this fuss is about.” She gathered the book and her shawl and left Letitia’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.