it will be to a man who is honorable, and, I dare say, hungry. For, as you may have guessed, my appetite for carnal pleasure is quite profound.”
Her touch and her words were too much. Darlington rose, yanked on his breeches, buttoned his shirt and strode quickly toward the bedroom door. Without looking back at her he managed, “Please be quick. My man is most likely having fits as I am so tardy.”
They rode in silence. She, at rein again, and he, scowling beside her.
Her heart did feel for the man. What lay ahead for him was nothing short of dreadful. But she could hardly preoccupy herself with unknotting his debacles when she herself faced quite a mess.
There was no doubt that her stepmother would make life difficult for her upon her return. Perhaps she’d lambaste her, threaten to cut off her inheritance. Could she do that?
She became so lost in thought that she failed to turn up the narrow road to Cockermouth, and the duke had to pull the reins from her hand and redirect the team.
“If you insist on driving, at least do me the courtesy of coaching them properly.”
“My apologies,” she countered. And she meant it. She deplored lack of competence in others, but she held herself to an even higher standard. “Shan’t happen again.”
He hip-checked her and took over the middle, the reins now solidly in hand. “No, it shan’t.”
She deserved as much. Her father had indulged her to a point, but he’d chastised her more than once about her willfulness. “No man will stand for it,” he’d told her.
Up ahead, there stood a blockage of carts and officers, all done up as though off to war.
“Goodness,” Lacy muttered. “What could that be about?”
They came to a halt at the blockade, and a heavily whiskered man wearing a custodian helmet strode up, and lifted his truncheon.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the duke.
“Duke Darlington Moore?” inquired the bobby.
“Yes?”
“We are here to escort this fe male to safety.”
Lacilia was incensed. She climbed down from the carriage and wagged a finger at the peeler. “Safety? Why, that’s absurd. I am perfectly safe, if you please.”
The bobby grasped her arm and affixed an iron shackle to it. “Lacilia Bloomsbury of Highcastle, I am hereby ordered to arrest you under suspicion of illicit activity.”
Darlington squeezed himself between the peeler and Lacy. “This must be a mistake. The lady and I did nothing wrong. She was merely delivering me to my horses here in Cockermouth.”
“Aye, a day later than expected. And where, pray tell, did you spend the night?”
“Are you daft?” Lacy spat. “There was a storm through which neither man nor beast could travel.”
“Beast, is it?” laughed the constable.
Lacy’s wrists were already bearing the stress of the irons. The bobby handled her roughly. “You know what we do about tarts in this town. Don’t matter if you was princely born or not.”
Lacy’s mind raced. How dare this policeman man-handle her. When her father …
Darlington must have read her face – the abrupt remembering of her father – her champion – no longer able to intercede in her behalf. “Unshackle her this instant, or I’ll have your badge!”
Suddenly, there was another voice in the mix. A gravelly woman’s voice. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Lacilia followed the sound, until her gaze fell upon the two women clad in mourning dresses flanking a clergyman. Sarah Jane’s eager grin spread her face. In her tight fist she held a sodden nosegay of lilies of the valley, and her nose was red from sneezing. Small welts dotted her throat.
The last thing Lacy heard as she was pushed into the back of a horse-drawn paddy wagon, was her stepmother commanding Duke Darlington to take her sister’s hand.
Intractable women might become happy wives; young ladies who have gone astray will return calmly to the bosom of the family; and married women formerly averse to sexual duties might immediately
Her touch and her words were too much. Darlington rose, yanked on his breeches, buttoned his shirt and strode quickly toward the bedroom door. Without looking back at her he managed, “Please be quick. My man is most likely having fits as I am so tardy.”
They rode in silence. She, at rein again, and he, scowling beside her.
Her heart did feel for the man. What lay ahead for him was nothing short of dreadful. But she could hardly preoccupy herself with unknotting his debacles when she herself faced quite a mess.
There was no doubt that her stepmother would make life difficult for her upon her return. Perhaps she’d lambaste her, threaten to cut off her inheritance. Could she do that?
She became so lost in thought that she failed to turn up the narrow road to Cockermouth, and the duke had to pull the reins from her hand and redirect the team.
“If you insist on driving, at least do me the courtesy of coaching them properly.”
“My apologies,” she countered. And she meant it. She deplored lack of competence in others, but she held herself to an even higher standard. “Shan’t happen again.”
He hip-checked her and took over the middle, the reins now solidly in hand. “No, it shan’t.”
She deserved as much. Her father had indulged her to a point, but he’d chastised her more than once about her willfulness. “No man will stand for it,” he’d told her.
Up ahead, there stood a blockage of carts and officers, all done up as though off to war.
“Goodness,” Lacy muttered. “What could that be about?”
They came to a halt at the blockade, and a heavily whiskered man wearing a custodian helmet strode up, and lifted his truncheon.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the duke.
“Duke Darlington Moore?” inquired the bobby.
“Yes?”
“We are here to escort this fe male to safety.”
Lacilia was incensed. She climbed down from the carriage and wagged a finger at the peeler. “Safety? Why, that’s absurd. I am perfectly safe, if you please.”
The bobby grasped her arm and affixed an iron shackle to it. “Lacilia Bloomsbury of Highcastle, I am hereby ordered to arrest you under suspicion of illicit activity.”
Darlington squeezed himself between the peeler and Lacy. “This must be a mistake. The lady and I did nothing wrong. She was merely delivering me to my horses here in Cockermouth.”
“Aye, a day later than expected. And where, pray tell, did you spend the night?”
“Are you daft?” Lacy spat. “There was a storm through which neither man nor beast could travel.”
“Beast, is it?” laughed the constable.
Lacy’s wrists were already bearing the stress of the irons. The bobby handled her roughly. “You know what we do about tarts in this town. Don’t matter if you was princely born or not.”
Lacy’s mind raced. How dare this policeman man-handle her. When her father …
Darlington must have read her face – the abrupt remembering of her father – her champion – no longer able to intercede in her behalf. “Unshackle her this instant, or I’ll have your badge!”
Suddenly, there was another voice in the mix. A gravelly woman’s voice. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Lacilia followed the sound, until her gaze fell upon the two women clad in mourning dresses flanking a clergyman. Sarah Jane’s eager grin spread her face. In her tight fist she held a sodden nosegay of lilies of the valley, and her nose was red from sneezing. Small welts dotted her throat.
The last thing Lacy heard as she was pushed into the back of a horse-drawn paddy wagon, was her stepmother commanding Duke Darlington to take her sister’s hand.
Intractable women might become happy wives; young ladies who have gone astray will return calmly to the bosom of the family; and married women formerly averse to sexual duties might immediately
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