B005R3LZ90 EBOK (14 page)

Sally was utterly humiliated. Did all of Bath think the only reason George married her was because she had freely offered him her sexual favors? No doubt most would be quick to believe such a lie. It made far more sense than the truth. Who would ever believe Lord Sedgewick would select the plain and penniless Sally Spenser for his wife? Who would ever think the fun-loving gallivanter capable of marrying for the sake of the children he seemed barely to tolerate? Only Sally knew how dearly he loved those children.

It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. Then she saw her husband and Blanks enter the chamber, and she was sure she would explode into a torrent of tears. She drew in a deep breath as George walked toward her, and she prayed that she would be able to keep her composure.

Unfortunately, George's initial glimpse at her told him something was wrong. His brows low, his voice gentle, he hastened to her side and spoke with concern. "Are you quite well, my dear?"

"No, she's not!" Glee said, stomping up to her brother. "You'll never believe what the odious Miss Johnson has gone and done."

"What?" George demanded, jerking away to face his enraged sister.

Glee put hands to hips. "She is spreading the most hideous rumors about you and Sally."

His brows dipped into a V. "Pray, what could she possibly have to say? My wife and I have nothing to be ashamed of." He flicked a smiling glance at Sally.

"She is telling everyone that the only reason you married Miss Spenser was because you had compromised her."

His eyes flared in anger. "Why would she make up such an outrageous lie?"

"Because she wanted be the next Lady Sedgewick," Glee said.

George was so furious, sparks seemed to shoot from his eyes. "Then I'm the reason my wife has been so maligned?"

"Don't blame yourself, George," Glee said.

"I won't have my wife so viciously slandered." He turned to face Sally and cupped her face with his big hand. "I won't allow her—or anyone—to ever hurt you."

Before she could reply, he turned with a jerk, left their circle and stormed across the floor, past the water attendants, past Appleton and the twins without speaking, and came up to Miss Johnson, who was surrounded by young men.

* * *

A pity the wretched Miss Johnson was not a man, for George would have taken great pleasure in beating her to pulp or in challenging her to a duel. Lamentably, he could do neither.

"Bath is so dreadfully dull this season," Miss Johnson was remarking to her admirers when George drew up beside her and glared.

"A word with you, Miss Johnson," George snapped.

She tossed a startled glance at his angry face. Her laughing eyes went cold. Her glance flicked back to the circle of young men gathered around her. "Excuse me."

George gripped her arm and walked to a bank of windows.

"You're hurting my arm," she protested.

He spoke in a voice as cold as ice water. "Count yourself fortunate you're not a man for I would likely wish to kill you."

Her eyes rounded with fear. "Why would you wish to do that, my lord?"

"You cannot deny that you've been spreading lies about my wife and me all over the city."

She clutched at her breast. "Never! Why, Miss Spenser's a very dear friend of mine."

"She's not Miss Spenser!" he snapped. "She's Lady Sedgewick now, and I believe you to be jealous of her good fortune."

She gave a mock laugh. "Me? Jealous of mousy Sally? Really, my lord, do you not have eyes in your head? Am I not possessed of far more beauty than . . . your wife? Do I not possess more wealth?"

"The physical attributes you possess, I fear, are greatly offset by your vicious tongue and want of good manners."

She stomped her slippered foot. "How dare you say such things to me!"

"Unlike you, Miss Johnson, I speak the truth."

Even as they filled with tears, her eyes narrowed to slits. "You will pay for maligning me in such a manner."

She turned away from him, but he closed his hand around the top of her arm. "You will
never
again malign my wife, Miss Johnson, or I shall see to it that there is nowhere on English soil where you or your family will ever be received."

With that final, bitter retort, George stormed back to his wife. He was not unaware that half the assemblage had witnessed Lord Sedgewick administer a blistering set-down to the humiliated Miss Johnson.

* * *

That night, carrying a torch, Betsy Johnson slipped from her darkened bedroom and made her way to the mews located on the back side of their block. Her father's money ensured that their stables could be located adjacent to their impressive house.

Even though she barely eased the stable door open, the noise set the horses whinnying in their stalls. Holding up her lantern so she could see better, she located the crude wooden stairway that led up to the sleeping loft of their groom, a young man named Ebinezer who was no more than a year Miss Johnson's senior.

As she came to the top of the steps, she heard the rustle of straw from Ebinezer's mattress. Since she no longer needed stealth, she settled her boots loudly on the floor where Ebinezer's straw bed lay.

The groom, wearing a rumpled nightshirt, bolted up when he saw his lovely mistress standing not ten feet from him. "What brings ye 'ere at this 'our, miss?" he inquired, quickly covering his bare leg with the sheet.

"You," she said throatily, her hand moving to stroke her breast, making slow, sensuous circles around her nipple. Then, before his startled eyes, she began to unfasten her dress. His eyes widened as her pale blue gown slipped to the floor.

Betsy Johnson stood before him wearing only a thin linen chemise that was nearly as transparent as glass.

The freckle-faced young man's mouth dropped open and he turned his gaze to the wall. "Really, miss, you ought not to be 'ere doin' these things."

She strolled toward him, lifting off her chemise as she sank onto his straw mattress. "Look at me, Ebinezer. Turn around," she said in a harsh whisper.

He slowly turned, his eyes falling to her breasts that were the size of apples, tipped with rosy, pointed nipples. He drew in a long breath.

"Let me feel you, Ebinezer," she whispered huskily, sliding her hand beneath his nightshirt, closing her hand over his engorged shaft. "Ah, I see you're ready for me."

"But miss--"

She drew closer to him and could feel the heat of his breath as she settled her lips on his, her hand sliding possessively over him.

"Do you know where I want you to touch me, Ebinezer?"

He swallowed hard. "No, miss."

"Between my legs. I'm like hot, melted butter. Just for you."

She drew her thighs apart as she faced him, and he obliged her.

Her hips began to rise with his movements, and she clenched herself tightly around his finger. "Faster, Ebinezer!" she shouted.

He went faster.

In feeble increments, she lowered herself to his mattress. "Now, Ebinezer, now! I want you."

Groaning, Ebinezer rolled over on her and eased himself into her.

"Harder, Ebinezer!" she urged. "Come into me harder."

Grunting hungrily, the groom began to pulse into her with frenzied thrusts until she screamed out her pleasure, her voice as ragged as his. With one final thrust, he cried out his own bestial pleasure, then collapsed over her.

She did so enjoy this. Those silly girls at Miss Worth's had never guessed what she was doing climbing from her dormitory window at night and prowling the streets of town, lifting her skirts for any man staggering from a public house.

Oh yes, she had craved these illicit unions since she gave Simms, the underfootman, her virginity at the age of twelve. Not that Simms had wanted it. He protested that she was an innocent young maiden, but his protests died out when he found her fully developed naked body squirming beneath his bed sheets one night.

She had been a most mature twelve-year-old. It was because of Papa's books. Her father, as wealthy as a nabob but blissfully ignorant, had thought to become a fine gentleman by purchasing two tons of leather-bound books for the Johnson library. Neither her fool father nor fool mother had ever opened a single one of the books.

Ah, but Betsy allowed the books in the library to nurture her. There was one particular book . . . she would wager her own papa was unaware of how very many sexual positions there were. And her papa was a lusty man, himself. More than once she had peered through keyholes to watch him take his pleasure on buxom housemaids.

Almost always, her corpulent father was on top.

He was not nearly as adventuresome as his only offspring. There was not a position Betsy Johnson had not tried.

She ran her hand over Ebinezer's hard buttocks. He was obviously more experienced than the new footman, who had a propensity to come much too quickly. No doubt, Ebinezer's age accounted for his experience. The footman was but seventeen. She looked forward to furthering Ebinezer's experience.

"Did you enjoy me, Ebinezer?"

"Aye, Miss Johnson."

"Should you like me to come back again?"

He lowered his face to hers and kissed her. "Aye, Miss Johnson."

"I will pleasure you as you've never been pleasured before, Ebinezer." Her tongue traced her own lips. "There is, however, something I wish you to do for me."

"Anything, Miss Johnson," he said, his hands greedily stroking her bare breasts.

"There is a very vile man upon whom I should like for you to spy. Mostly at night, I'm afraid, but don't worry about missing me warming your bed. I vow you'll not go wanting for my favors."

She drew closer and sucked his tongue into her mouth. "Shall we have another go at it, love?"

Chapter 13

Miss Primble did not look at all as Sally had pictured her. For one thing, she was much younger. The new nurse was no older than Sally's own two and twenty years. Which meant that she must have come to her "lambs" who were now at Eton when she was little more than a girl, fourteen at the most. Awfully young to take on such responsibilities, Sally thought. Even though she was much younger than expected, Sally immediately decided that her youth was a good thing. After all, Georgette and Sam liked Sally above all others, and she was but two and twenty. The children would likely be more comfortable with a younger woman. The Curmudgeon was forty if she was a day.

Another thing about Miss Primble that Sally had not been prepared for was her plumpness. Sally decided she must be a very good eater indeed. She only hoped Miss Primble's affinity for overindulging would not influence Georgette and Sam. They both looked perfect just the way they were.

Sally, with a welcoming smile, strolled up to the new nurse. "I'm so happy you were able to come so quickly." She glanced at Miss Primble's valise. "First, allow me to show you to your chamber." Sally gave the butler orders to carry up Miss Primble's valise.

They walked up the stairs to the second floor. The first room they came to was Sam's, which Sally indicated to the nurse. The next was Georgette's, and next to Georgette's was a small room for Miss Primble. Sally showed her the room, which lacked a bed though it did offer a comfortable chair. "You will sleep in the children's room," Sally informed her. "Actually Georgette has taken to sleeping alone quite well since her former nurse left. But Sam's just barely two, and I prefer that someone stay in his room with him. He is frightened of the dark. He's such a baby still," Sally said in an indulgent voice.

Miss Primble nodded. "I 'ope he doesn't miss his former nurse too dreadfully."

"He doesn't."

Miss Primble shot a quizzing gaze at Sally.

"I dismissed her because she was not particularly pleasant to the children."

"How could someone be mean to God's most precious little creatures?" the outraged nurse asked.

Sally smiled. She liked Miss Primble very much indeed. "Come, let's go to the nursery."

Miss Primble followed Sally up the last flight of stairs to the children's nursery. There, Georgette was dressing up the big cat, and Sam was standing on a stool gazing out the window at the horses that perpetually passed in front of their town house. The tot had become completely fascinated with horses, and he never tired of looking at them. Sally had decided she really must speak to his father about procuring a pony for Sam. Of course, he was far too young to sit one by himself, but she saw no reason why she could not grasp on to him as he sat a gentle mount.

"Sam! Georgette!" Sally called, "Your new nurse, Miss Primble, has come. Please come and greet her."

Sam turned back to the window, but his sister dropped the discarded baby bonnet that was in her hand, walked up to her new nurse, and prettily said, "How do you do, Miss Primble?"

Despite her size, Miss Primble nimbly dropped to her knees to face Georgette. "I am doing very well now that I've come to Bath to take care of you and your brother. You must know I am depending on you to help me take care of little Sam. Do you think you can you help me, lamb?"

A smile on her face, Georgette nodded.

"Tell me, does yer brother like to rock in a rocking chair?"

Georgette nodded again. "With Miss Spencer—I mean, with Mama."

Miss Primble sent a questioning glace to Sally.

"I'm actually just the children's stepmother," Sally said with disappointment. She far preferred others to think she was the children's true mother because that's how she liked to think of herself. "I've only been Lady Sedgewick for a month."

Miss Primble rose to a standing position. "But you're . . . you're so concerned, so loving. I took you for their real mum."

Sally beamed. "I'd like to think of myself as their real mother. I've known them all their lives." She lowered her voice. "Their mother died on childbed with little Sam. I'm most likely the closest thing to a mother he's ever known. Their previous nurse was rather an ogre."

Miss Primble's eyes narrowed. "There ought to be special place in hell for those what are unkind to children."

"She really wasn't unkind," Sally explained. "It was more that she was never, ever kind."