Sybille's Lord (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

All
of a sudden it made sense. Except for one thing. “Bebb?” she asked Thom as he
took her hand.

“Yes.”

“Bebb
is a chef?”

Thom
laughed. “In a manner of speaking. She‘s a damned good cook anyway.”

“She?”

He
flicked her nose. “She. Bettina, known as Bebb, is the daughter of an Earl. As
you can gather, Bebb is not her full name. Her family cast her off when she and
Esme escaped here years ago. I suppose they’ll tell anyone who needs to know she’s
a companion or something. Well, of course she is, but not in the way they would
mean it.” His inference was obvious.

“Ah.”
A lover? Esme has a female lover? Oh my.
“Then why have I not met her?”

Thom
glanced at her, as he closed the French window behind them, and they walked
across the dining room toward the lounge.

“You
will. Once Esme realizes you accept the situation. She is over protective of
her lady, but with good reason. Out here, they are merely seen as eccentrics
and universally liked. But in the ton they would be annihilated. Which is why,
I suspect they rarely leave the house and the village.”

Sybille
nodded. “It must be hard for them. And of course I accept the situation. None
of us can choose who we fall in love with. If it is a coup de foudre, you
either accept it or be miserable.”

“And
have you?” Thom asked her. “Accepted it?”

She
smiled. “Oh yes, come hell or high water, you’re stuck with me. No breach of
contract will be allowed.”

“I’ll
put a ring of intent on your finger as soon as I can.”

His
smile melted the chill that the thought of Bankfoot had given her. By the time
they entered the small salon, which was not so small, but cozy and intimate,
she felt happy, reassured and able to face any challenge ahead.

The
small, elegant lady standing next to Esme was a surprise. The lady stared at
Sybille, with a faint smile on her face.

“Sybille?
You look well.”

Sybille
jumped and her jaw dropped. She stopped in her tracks, and hardly noticed the
hard body of Thom as he bumped into her. “Aunt Tina?”

Thom
looked from each of the ladies in turn. “
Aunt
Tina?” He glared at Esme. “Bebbs is Sybille’s Aunt Tina? Did you know?”

“Not
until you introduced Sybille. Then of course I had to warn Tina.”

“Not
because I didn’t want to meet you again,” Tina said in her soft, West Country accent.
“But I had no idea what’s been said about me. Hell, child you’ve not seen me
for years, you might not have recognized me.”

“Of
course I would, you were Maman’s best friend.” Sybille crossed the room and
bussed Tina’s cheeks. “Why have I not seen you for oh, five or six years?”

“You’ve
been at school. And well, we’ve not met up as often as we’d like. However
letter writing is a marvelous thing, and I know all about you all. Or almost
all. I believe there’s a problem with the Bankfoots?”

 
Sybille nodded, but inwardly she groaned. Did
everyone know?
That’s not fair, how can
Thom, Esme and Tina be everyone? Grow up. After all I chose to take Esme into
my confidence.

 
“With Cornelius.”

“Blackmail,”
Esme said. Her voice was full of disgust. “Nasty little worm. Thom has a plan.”

“Which
he hopes will work,” Thom said. “It’s no use just producing the pearls. We need
to put the fear of God into him as well. Esme’s handed us that method.”

“Alfie.”
Esme said. “Poor toad, he’d been dismissed from Cornelius’s mind. Cedric never
goes up to town, and Cornelius seems to have put it about he’s the heir, not
Alfie. I can put a spoke in his wheel. Alfie, the first-born, has a third
nipple. I hazard a guess he doesn’t realize I know that. Well, why would he?”

“That’s
not easy to hide or fabricate,” Thom said with satisfaction. “It helps. I need
to go back to town. If I set off now on Endeavor I’ll easily be there before
nightfall. May Sybille stay here?”

“Of
course, if she wants to,” Esme said easily. “Though I think she’s more likely
to acquiesce if you explain your reasons.”

Sybille
bit her lip to hold back a grin.

“She’s
a chip off the old block. 'Tell me why or I won’t,’ used to be Mijo’s favorite
expression.”

“It
still is, according to my papa. I think I’ll adopt it.”

“I
don’t want Bankfoot to be able to get to you. When I confront him, I suspect he
will be like a caged animal. I need you safe, and this is one way of ensuring
it.”

“But
my family?” Sybille asked him urgently.

Thom
looked toward Esme. “I’ll get the beds ready,” she said. “From tomorrow?”

“At
the earliest,” Thom stood up and pulled Sybille to her feet. She teetered on
tiptoes and the gleam in his eye showed her he’d moved her so suddenly on purpose.

“Come
and say goodbye, while I saddle Endeavor.” He didn’t wait for her answer, just
held onto her arm and tugged her. Short of letting go, and she didn’t think he’d
let her, she had no option but to follow.

“Must
you go now?” Sybille asked as they entered the cool, dimly lit stables. “I had
hoped…” She chuckled. “How forward to say this. I had hoped to awaken in your
arms again. Many times during the hours of darkness.”

Thom
glanced at her. His eyes glittered in the half-light as he turned his head to
look around them. In one corner a pile of hay stood with a shaft of sunlight
flickering over it. Next to it, a saddle covered in a blanket over it, rested
on what looked like a custom-made stand and behind them, a row of hooks for
bridles.

“Go
and lean over the saddle,” he said softly. “Quickly. We don’t have much time.”

Puzzled
but aroused by the deep tone he used, Sybille hurried to comply. She rested her
middle on the side of the saddle. With the blanket cushioning her from the
saddle leather, nothing dug in too much. “Like this?” Hay sweetly scented the
air, and she closed her eyes and sniffed with appreciation. It smelled of
summer.

“Perfect.”
There was a rustle and then her arse became chilly and her view disappeared.

“Whattftptt!”
Not very eloquent, but the best she could manage under the circumstances.

Thom
chuckled. “Indubitably. Just let your senses have full rein.” He caressed each
globe of her rear, in long seductive circles. “And my pego also.”

He
nudged her legs apart, and then the tip of his staff bumped against the
entrance to her channel. Sybille gave into temptation and pushed back against
him until he entered her fully. Then she held onto the saddle for dear life as
he rode her in the manner he would a horse. Hard and fast.

Sybille
matched him thrust for thrust. His breathing was choppy and harsh in the
otherwise quiet room. Hers was breathy, irregular and difficult to remember to
do. Their sighs and gasps got louder.

She
began to tremble as her climax hit the heights and overwhelmed her. Sybille let
it claim her, only dimly aware as Thom thrust twice more, and shuddered.

Neither
shouted; it seemed the need for caution had instilled itself in Thom as well as
her. How long they remained in that position, Sybille didn’t know although she
suspected it wasn’t long. Their situation was too precarious to linger as they
were.

Thom
flicked her dress back down, and helped her stand. “Wait there.”

He
disappeared out of the stable whistling as he went.

There goes one satisfied male.
She couldn’t complain, as she felt
somewhat satisfied herself.

He
returned with a bucket of water. “Is this any good? I have a handkerchief.” He
passed the linen square to her.

“Thank
you.” Sybille took it. Turn your back, or better still saddle Endeavor.”

Thom
laughed but walked away. It gave Sybille a few seconds to wash herself and
wring out the linen. By the time he came back, she was as composed as anyone
could be after having been ravished over a saddle stand.

He
winked. “Your turn.”

“Wh…
oh right.” She turned her back on him hastily, and wondered if it would be in
order to stuff her fingers in her ears. The rustlings and splashes were all too
thought provoking.

“You
can turn around now.” Thom touched her shoulder and she jumped like a scalded
cat, so involved in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach. “Are you all
right?”

“Just
jittery. I wish I was going with you. What will happen?” She smoothed her hair
and gave up trying to get it back into the few pins that remained. Heaven knew what
had happened to the rest.

Thom
shouldered the saddle and began to tack up Endeavor. “I’ll go to see him and
tell him how unwise it will be to carry on.”

“Just
like that?” Sybille took a stalk of hay out of his hair. “And he will agree?”

“Oh
yes,” Thom said grimly. “I’ll see to that. I might be a few days. Enjoy your
stay and dream of me.” He swung up onto Endeavor’s back and gathered the reins.
“Take care.”

“My
parents and siblings?” Sybille asked urgently. “Are they at any risk?”

“No,
I was overreacting, to show Esme how seriously I am taking this. They will be
safe. I’ll wager Bankfoot will crumple when challenged. He has no backbone.” He
blew her a kiss. But still, I’ll ask you to take care.”

“And
you.” Sybille sketched a wave, and watched as he cantered out of the yard and
up the drive.

She
waited where she was, until the sound of hoofbeats had died away, before she
turned and walked back into the house in a thoughtful mood. Was it really as
simple as Thom made out?

That
nasty itch between her shoulder blades was back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Once
the tussle over who was boss had been decided—Thom surfacing as the winner,
though how long for he wouldn’t like to hazard a guess—Endeavor carried Thom
smoothly and swiftly toward the capital. At this time of the day, the shadows
were long, and the traffic light. After the third time Endeavor shied at the
imaginary monsters that waved at him, Thom let the horse stretch himself and
wear himself out. Therefore, by the time they reached the suburbs, and the
traffic increased, Endeavor was exhausted enough to obey Thom without any
resistance. They weaved their way through carts and street vendors without any
mishap, until they reached the relative quiet of the mews behind his house.

However,
Thom was thankful to be able to hand Endeavor over to his groom. The journey hadn’t
been the easiest. On a strange horse, and with the necessity to make haste, he’d
needed all his wits about him. Even so, as he entered his house, his plan was
formulated. As his valet helped him out of his jacket, and reminded him his
bathwater was waiting, Thom had his evening plotted out.

He
called his housekeeper and major domo to his study, and arranged several things
he knew would be needed within a few hours. If they weren’t, he didn’t know his
godmother as well as he thought he did. Satisfied there was no more he could
feasibly do at that moment, he called his carriage and left for his first
appointment.

By
the time he walked up to Theo and Mijo at the first of his planned events of
the evening—an informal get together at Lady Morrison’s—he was confident his plot
and machinations would work.

Theo
saw him first, and raised one eyebrow. “Your note was somewhat cryptic. Nevertheless,
we are here. What do you want me, or indeed us, to do?”

“Other
than plan a wedding? Nothing now, but later? Ah later, I hope your worries regarding
the pearls will be over. So, at our last event for the evening, make Mijo wear
her pearls when I signal you, and not until. The real ones I sent round to you—Mijo
do not squeal, it all hinges on tonight, at La Grey’s. I can only play it out
as it happens, it is impossible to plan to any degree However, Bankfoot will
hopefully take my bait, and the pearls will be the final nail in his coffin.”

“I
will do as you command, Thomas,” Mijo said. “Theo, I heard you quite distinctly
say it will be the first time I have ever obeyed a command. I always do as you
ask.”

Theo
laughed. “Ask, my dear, is the operative word. Ask, not command.”

“It
is Thomas who commands, therefore I will acquiesce.” She smiled at both of them
in turn. “This time.”

Thom
bowed. “Thank you.”

“It
is my pleasure. How on earth did you manage to get Sybille to stay away?”

“I’m
not sure I did,” Thom said. “We will see.”

****

“I
feel sick,” Tina said faintly. She fanned herself with her hand. “What are we
doing?”

“Saving
your best friend’s neck, I reckon.” Esme stuck her head out of the window. “Sybille,
child, where in Hades are we?”

Sybille
looked over Esme’s shoulder. “Er, just crossing the heath. Not too long now.
Will we be in time?”

“Heavens
child, of course. How long did we give him to get ahead?”

Sybille
laughed. “Ten minutes?”

“Fifteen.
And being up on Endeavor, he had several miles an hour on us. He’ll be out of
the way before we arrive.”

“Where
are we going?” Tina asked. She’d been very quiet, and now looked as if she was
ready to be sick.

“Thom’s,”
Esme said and ignored Tina’s yelp. “Sybille, do you have clothes at Thom’s house,
suitable for our evening festivities?”

Sybille
shook her head. “Of course not, why would I?”

“Why
indeed?” Esme shook her head. “I do worry about the adventure of your souls.”

“Pardon?”

“You
have none,” Esme said. “Tina, buck up, we’re nearly at Clemente’s.”

“Clemente’s?”
Sybille blinked. Clemente was one of the prized modistes of the ton. Only a
very select few were chosen to be gowned by her. It was said, that to receive a
pale pink card, engraved with the name 'Clemente’, and the words
‘you are invited to be gowned by’
… was
one of the most coveted requests a lady could receive. “How on earth?”

Esme
tapped her nose. “Another godchild. Of course she’s reinvented herself over the
years, but I sent Young Clements—one of the grooms and her younger brother—ahead
to warn her. She’ll be waiting for us.”

Sybille
began to laugh helplessly. Her life had been turned on its head over the last
few days and she was enjoying every minute of it. But Clemente’s?

 
“Will she want us all? Even me?”

“I
suspect you’re of more interest to her than Tina or I. She sends us a regular
supply of gowns, which we dutifully wear to church and the local socials. She
has our sizes and there will be something suitable waiting. But we are small
fry.”

Tina
smiled. She looked slightly more cheerful. “Thank the lord. If I could stay at
home, I’d be happy. Oh don’t look like that Esme, I’ll back you. If we have to
be oddities, we might as well be oddities together. Two for one to flummox the
ton.”

“Don’t
do it for me,” Sybille said, somewhat alarmed at what the two older ladies were
going to put themselves through on her family’s behalf. The three of them had
plotted on the drive to London. How Esme knew just exactly what Thom had in
mind, Sybille had no idea. The only thing they didn’t know was where he would
be, but as Esme said firmly, if his valet didn’t know Thom’s plans, he would
deserve to be fired. She intended to send a message to him, as soon as they
reached Clemente’s. There would be no time to detour to Thom’s house. Mutton
and the coach had gone to warn the household about their guests, and been
ordered that while he was there he had to have a bit to eat, and change, before
he returned for them.

“We’re
not, we’re doing it for both of you. And yes, for ourselves. To prove we can.”

Sybille
leaned forward and hugged both Esme and Tina. “I love you both, and I will be
cheering you on.”

“Good,
and you will be the belle of the ball. Maggie—Clemente I mean—will be itching
to dress you. Can you direct Mutton to Bruton Street?”

Sybille
scanned the roads. “Left and a mile further, then turn right.”

“Good
show.” Esme shoved the top half of her body out of the window and shouted up at
Mutton, her coachman. She sat back down with a satisfied sigh. “So all set eh?”

“As
I’ll ever be, Tina said gloomily. “At least I’m forewarned that our families
are likely to meet us. They have no clue. That knowledge pleases me. In fact it
makes most of this almost palatable.”

Esme
patted her arm. “Their loss, love.”

“And
now their loss is my gain,” Sybille said. “I’ve found you, and discovered Aunt
Tina again.”

“There
is that,” Tina said with a smile.

“So
that’s two positives.” Sybille raised her eyebrows. “Surely we are on an upward
stroke?”

“We
can but hope so,” Esme said soberly. “If nothing else we’ll all replenish our
wardrobes.”

The
next hour was a revelation to Sybille. Oh she’d been measured for gowns, and at
fashionable modistes, but Clemente’s was a revelation. While she was pricked,
prodded and pinned into gowns and pelisses, Esme and Tina fed her nibbles and
tidbits, and handed her a glass of wine.

“Don’t
spill it,” Esme said as she twisted one way and another and admired the dark
green silk she wore. “Maggie, you’ve done us proud.”

“Of
course. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. And you’ve brought me Lady Sybille
to dress. What more could I ask? Aunt Tina, leave that neckline be. It is as it
should be. You have fine titties, why not flaunt them? And that neckline covers
all necessities.”

Sybille
bit her lip to stop herself gasping as Tina moved her hands from the gown as if
it had scalded her.

“Bully,”
Tina grumbled as she paced the room. She stopped in front of a mirror and
gasped. “Young Maggie, this is beautiful. Maybe everyone will be so taken up
with why you should make a dress for me, of all people, they’ll forget to ask
what on earth we are doing gatecrashing.”

“No
one will dare ask that,” Esme said. “To get the black sheep of two prominent
families at their functions will be such a cache.” She snorted. “Little will
they know.”

“Aunt
Esme, your dress is finished. Millicent will help you into it.” Maggie put a
last stitch into the hem of the ruby and silver gown Sybille wore and knelt
back onto her haunches. “My Lady, you are a joy to dress. I do hope you’ll let
me continue to be your modiste.”

“I
er…” What on earth could she say?
‘If we
have any money?’

“Of
course she will,” Esme said in a firmly. “And a word in your ear. Wedding
clothes.”

“Esme,”
Sybille said in an agonized voice. ‘I ca—”

“It’s
Tina and my wedding present to her,” Esme said. “She’s special to us as well as
Thom. Not widely known, mind, but get your thinking cap on. And
no
flat white. A nice subtle rose
maybe?”

Clemente
nodded. “I have the very thing. Finish your wine and let me show you. Mutton
will be ready when you are.” She bustled off.

“Well,”
Tina sniggered. “She gets ever bossier.”

“She
is allowed to be,” Esme said. “Be prepared for a lot more. I think it’s time to
open up the house. Oh not all the time, but it would be good to go to the theatre,
and the opera eh?”

Tina
nodded. “As ever you’re right.” She sounded as if they were planning her
funeral, not festivities.

“Here,
what do you think?” Maggie—Clemente—re-entered the room holding a bolt of shot
silk in the palest rose, and one of a deeper colored lace.

Sybille
gawped as Clemente rolled several yards of material out over the back of a
chaise, and the silk rippled like a dawn kissed waterfall. “Oh my, it’s beautiful.”

“Come
back as soon as you can and I’ll show you my ideas for it.”

There
was a soft knock on the door. “That will be the warning that Mutton is here for
you. Aunt Esme, I’ll arrange for everything to go to Lord Jeavons’s house. You’ll
be clothed for bed and tomorrow. The rest will be delivered before the
afternoon is over.”

“Perfect.
Right ladies, gird up your loins and let’s go.” Esme led them out like a
general leading their troops into battle. Which in a way, Sybille surmised was
what was about to happen.