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THE WOMAN’S CHEEKS were turning red, making her round face resemble that of a tomato, but Harrietta held firm.
“That Adia’s presence should alleviate some of the work of the other scullery maids does not trouble me,” Harrietta informed Mrs. Stewart. “I have reviewed the budget for the household servants and find there is ample funds to retain Adia, who will not require a significant wage as we will be providing her room and board, though I am determined that she will earn what is fair. I will not take advantage of an orphan.”
Harrietta felt slightly awkward sitting behind the writing desk of the room that Vale had set up for her needs. Till now she had very little use for the room save for one she wished to pen a letter to her family. She thought of Harold issuing commands to his troops. She would do him proud in her own little way.
“But I have no place to put her,” Mrs. Stewart protested.
“Adia is a small child. I should be happy to survey the servants’ quarters with you to identify a suitable place for Adia.”
Mrs. Stewart bristled and glanced at the doorway as if searching for a means to escape a conversation she clearly did not relish. Relief lighted her eyes when she saw the figure clad in embroidered silk.
Harrietta, too, looked to see her husband standing at the threshold. He had not been present for breakfast, much to her disappointment for what had transpired last night at Madame Botreaux’s had only increased her eagerness to see Vale this morning. As always, he looked impeccable. He must have just returned home for his three-cornered hat was still upon his head and he held his ivory-handled cane in hand.
“Pardon my intrusion,” he said. “I meant only to apologize for my absence at breakfast this morning.”
Harrietta smiled at him and was thrilled when he returned her smile with equal warmth, a warmth that made his eyes sparkle.
“Mrs. Stewart and I were discussing the addition of—” she began.
“It would be a waste to hire additional hands that would not be required,” Mrs. Stewart addressed to the Marquess. “Especially hands that are untrained—”
“We could train Adia in little time,” Harrietta defended. “She is a bright girl.”
Mrs. Stewart turned imploringly to Vale, who was now leaning his back against the doorframe, his lids half-lowered as if bored.
“Why look to me?” he asked her. “It would seem the Marchioness has made her decision.”
“But—”
“The reigns of this household are in her hands now, Mrs. Stewart, and I have no wish to clarify that point a second time.”
Mrs. Stewart looked down at her folded hands. “I understand, my lord.”
“Good.”
“And I think a change of drapery in the library is due,” Harrietta added. “I have examined a few bolts of fabric that I think will do nicely.”
“Very well, my lady,” Mrs. Stewart said.
“That is all.”
With relief, Harrietta watched Mrs. Stewart. She would have preferred to be on good terms with the housekeeper, but absent that, she wanted her commands to be carried out. She had prepared herself for a long battle, had envisioned herself bearing down for a siege, and Vale’s appearance had cut short that battle.
She gave him a grateful smile, then jumped to her feet. “Can we fetch Adia now?”
“Now?” he echoed.
“I know Mrs. Stewart will despise me for thrusting Adia into her hands so soon, but I think Adia will be thrilled!”
He hesitated, but she knew he was going to humor her.
“Come,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I need only my hat and gloves and I shall be ready.”
Returning his hat to his head, the Marquess allowed his wife to pull him back down the hall with the eagerness of a child about to visit the confectionery.
*****
AS HARRIETTA PREDICTED, Adia was more than pleased to leave the girls’ asylum and have the opportunity to live in a grand house. She thanked her benefactors profusely the entire carriage ride from the asylum back to Dunnesford House. Vale left Adia with Harrietta, who was only too happy to take the girl to the haberdashery to see what was needed. Though he would have been pleased to be in the company of the two, he perceived he would only be in the way.
He therefore took himself to Pall Mall and that sanctuary for gentlemen, Brooks’s. He came across William Wilberforce emerging from Boodle’s across the street and inquired politely after the man’s efforts to abolish the slave trade before entering Brooks’s, where he seemed to draw the attention of the other patrons in the subtle manner of averted eyes, curious stares, and the occasional cough. Not in the mood for gambling, he took himself to the lounge. He considered collaring the next man who stared at him to ask what the devil was afoot when he came across Lance Duport.
“A word with you,” his friend said without pause and directed him to a solitary sofa in the corner.
Vale sat down in an armchair and lazily propped his feet on a footstool. He flicked open his snuffbox and waited patiently for Lance to speak.
“The betting book has a new entry of late,” Lance informed him.
Vale inhaled a pinch of snuff.
“I remarked to one patron that you would find it most amusing,” Lance added.
“If that is the case, why do you look so dreadfully cross?” Vale asked his friend.
“Well...it concerns you.”
“I gathered that much.”
“And...your wife.”
Vale paused briefly before closing his snuffbox. “Do you wish for me to read the bet myself?”
Lance sighed. “It is signed anonymous, but the bet is that your wife will make you a cuckold in less than a fortnight hence.”
A servant approached to inquire if they desired refreshment. After requesting a claret, Vale turned to Lance.
“Is that all?”
“Is that all?” Lance repeated, confused.
“It has already been done.”
“By whom?”
“By me.”
Lance shook his head in disbelief. “Surely you did not write the bet?”
“I did not,” Vale acknowledged. “It were possible this person is a patron of the Cavern and has somehow discovered Harrietta. Or some enemy of mine wishing to stir mischief. But, given all that I am, all that I have done, I could not censure Harrietta if she chose to pursue an affair.”
“You astound me. I understand that, as a patron of Madamee Botraeux’s your sensibilities would differ from that of a common man, but you would not be disturbed if your wife took a lover?”
Vale hesitated. At one time, he had thought such a prospect would not trouble him in the least. He was not bothered by what others thought of him as a cuckold, but now the thought of Harrietta with another man was not such a complacent one.
Images of her nestled against his body last night at the Cavern flashed before his eyes. The scent of her arousal filling the air about them. Her rutting body grinding against him. The length at which she quivered in his arms. His cock had been as hard as he could ever remember it being. How he had longed to plunge into the space that damn dildo had occupied. To feel the warmth of her womanhood. But her pleasure, her triumph had been paramount. And when she had succeeded, he could not have been more proud.
Who could have written the bet? Did it have to do with the Cavern or not at all? Perhaps someone who witnessed Harrietta with Lovell Elroy? Was it Lovell himself?
The thought made him fume. Of all the men in London, she could not choose that man.
And yet it had seemed she was not impartial to her own husband. That day Adia had come to visit. Harrietta had enjoyed his company. And her smile this morning. It had been more than that of a mere friend or a sister. Could she be so duplicitous as to entertain three different men—her husband, a master, and a lover? He found it difficult to fathom. Her venture into Madame Botreaux’s was not about love. And if she found carnal fulfillment in the Cavern, why the need for a paramour?
“You would not call him out if you knew his identity?” Lance inquired.
“I would,” Vale answered, “if he dared hurt Harrietta.”
And he would not hesitate to blow the man’s brains out, Vale concluded.
“You would allow an affair to continue otherwise?”
Vale put a hand to his temple. “If you recall, I had very little thoughts of matrimony. If I had desires to pursue a marriage of love and not convenience, I might not have considered offering the Countess my assistance. But if I am to continue my situation as regards the Cavern, it would only be fair to my wife that she be allowed her own...indiscretions.”
“Is your marriage one of convenience?”
“My dear Lance, you are beginning to sound like Penelope. I liked you better when your aim was to have a cock stuffed up your arse.”
“Mistake me not, I am all for a marriage that requires no dedication on your part, even if the chances of your buggering me again be slim, but I am a friend, Dunnesford. And I think...I wonder if the circumstances might not have changed?”
Vale stared at Lance. Lance did not have to speak the words. He did not have to even had he the courage to speak them. Vale knew what was unsaid.
He was in love with his wife.