The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares. Kasey Michaels
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forth in the chair, fighting a bout of hiccups. Shy and missish were not words one could ever think to use to describe Lady Katherine Redgrave.
They’d been talking, the marquis and Trixie, nattering of this and that over the late supper Soames had set out, the remains of which were still in evidence. Speaking of this and that, she’d said again, adding as she looked pointedly to Gideon, “And perhaps a few other things.”
She’d thought to tease, flattering the man by kicking off one small slipper and running her silk-clad toes up and down his leg and…well, there was travel involved, and that would be all she’d say. That distraction had done wonders at loosening the man’s tongue.
There came a moment, however, only a moment, when she may have asked too pointed a question, or perhaps given too much away by dint of one of her comments. In any event, the marquis made to leave, which of course he could not do, not in his current mood, one that bordered on suspicion, of all silly things. It was only practical that she…distract him.
The distraction had ended happily, albeit, for the marquis, also permanently.
“He’s really dead?” Jessica asked, looking down at the sheet-covered mound that had until recently been the Marquis of Mellis.
“Oh, yes, he’s dead,” Gideon grumbled. “There’s probably a lot to be said for dogs and fires and snifters of brandy. At least after seventy. Although, as exits go, I suppose it wouldn’t be all that terrible.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at her and then blinked. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my mind was wandering. It’s not every day I see a naked nobleman in my grandmother’s bed, alive or dead. In fact, I try not to think about Trixie’s bed in any way or form.”
“I should certainly hope so.” Jessica leaned her head against his upper arm. “He’s rather large, isn’t he? What are we going to do with him?”
Kate, apparently at last recovered from her fit of giggles, was beside them now, also looking down at the mounded sheet. “He can’t stay here. At least not precisely here.” She reached for the edge of the sheet. “Come on, you two, we’ll have to get him dressed.”
Gideon’s hand shot out, his fingers clamping around his sister’s wrist. “There are times, Katherine, when I could cheerfully throttle you. Downstairs. Now. All three of you. And send Soames in here.”
Jessica led the grinning Kate away, and, along with the dowager duchess, they descended to the drawing room where, as they’d been informed by Soames, tea and cakes awaited them.
Jessica was too concerned for Gideon to sit down, but once Trixie had taken up her usual half-reclining position on the one-armed couch, Kate dropped to the floor beside her, to ask, “What happened, Trixie? I mean, what really happened? What first did you do when you realized he’d cocked up his toes?”
Jessica was a matron now, a wife. She should be scolding her sister-in-law for her questions, and searching out some spirits of hartshorn for the dowager countess, as Trixie should by rights be having a fit of the vapors. Since neither action appeared to be required, or indeed looked for, she decided to take up one of the facing chairs and simply listen.
“Naughty puss,” Trixie said, patting Kate’s cheek. “I should be terrified that you’re so like me, were I not so flattered. Now, as to your last question? I didn’t notice. Not at first. I was much too occupied with wondering if drinking those horrid Bath waters truly has some sort of medicinal or restorative effect. I mean, the man was—well, not the man he used to be, surely, but certainly no sluggard.”
Jessica looked down at her toes. There was nowhere else to look, not really.
“He always roared like some great bear when he was—I really shouldn’t be saying this, not to you two innocent girls. I must be more overset than I imagined.”
“Gideon and Jessica married tonight, Trixie,” Kate supplied helpfully. “From the way they were looking at each other when they went up to bed at ten o’clock, I don’t think Jessica’s innocence should be a worry to you.”
The dowager countess smiled in Jessica’s direction. “No grass growing under my grandson’s feet, is there? I should have realized he wouldn’t wait so much as another day. I’ll expect a grandchild within the year.” Then she turned her attention back to Kate. “However, if you tell me you’re no innocent, I’ll have the man’s name tonight and his ears on my mantel tomorrow.”
“I didn’t mean I’m not innocent, Trixie,” Kate protested. “I’m simply not, well, innocent. Or do you forget who raised me? Remember when I was ten, and I asked you about those statues lining the staircase out there, and what those funny things were?”
Trixie shook her head. “Oh, I have so many sins to account for…” But then she rallied, as if eager to be on with it. “Very well, where was I?”
“There you go, Trixie. You’ll feel better for the telling, I’m sure, you poor dear. Now, he was roaring…” Kate prompted, grinning at Jessica.
“No, that wasn’t what I was saying. He was in the habit of roaring once brought to the, shall we say, summit. Tonight it was rather more of a surprised oh and then nothing. He simply collapsed on top of me. So I noticed only when I pointed out that, proud of himself as he might be, he was now crushing me and would he please move—which, sadly, he did not do. I nearly exhausted my strength until I could manage to extract myself from beneath him. I scribbled a note to Gideon and have been imbibing this lovely wine ever since, which is the only reason I’m running my tongue, which I shouldn’t be doing, although, after the first time, you’d think I’d be less prone to hysterics.”
Jessica sat up very straight. “This has happened to you before tonight?”
“Oh, yes, this makes it twice now. But other than to shamelessly trot after younger men, I see no escape from the possibility of a third time. Save celibacy, of course, which is out of the question.”
“Of course,” Jessica agreed weakly. It occurred to her it was a very good thing she wasn’t some sheltered debutante suddenly thrust into this scandalous nest of Redgraves.
Kate rested her chin in her hand and looked adoringly up at her grandmother. “I want to be like you. I never want to grow old.”
“We all grow old, pet,” Trixie told Kate, patting her cheek. “Why else do you think I try so desperately to tell myself I’m still young? Being old terrifies me, because each day brings me closer to the moment I have to face my sins before my God. You don’t want that sort of terrible moment for yourself, and I most certainly don’t wish it on you.” She took a steadying breath. “And now I believe I’d very much like another glass of wine, to aid me in maintaining my accustomed sangfroid.”
“I’ll see to it,” Jessica said when Kate looked at her, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth, tears standing in her dark eyes.
A minute later there was some slight commotion on the other side of the closed doors, and all three women looked in that direction. There were a series of muffled bumps capped by a string of barely contained curses, followed by the sound of footsteps, perhaps even the sounds of something being dragged across the floor and, finally, the closing of a door.
“‘Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.’ As long as you’re no longer resting under my roof.” Trixie raised her refilled glass in a salute, and then downed its contents in one long, smooth glide. “I wonder what Gideon decided to do with him? Oh, well, whatever it is, it won’t kill him. The marquis, I mean.”
An hour later, with Trixie now slumbering while almost politely snoring beneath a cashmere shawl on the couch, Jessica and Kate had that answer from Gideon.
“He’ll be discovered in his usual chair at his favorite club. His coachman was most willing to accommodate my request for both his help and the club’s direction, as he could see the inherent