Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,39

sunniest disposition sour.

The steward scraped a bow. “I don’t know, sir.” The woman standing next to him—Mrs. Wells, if Dexter recalled the name correctly—seemed to possess a little more backbone. Though she dipped into a curtsey, she looked Dexter square in the eye.

“The mistress is taking a walk,” she said.

“On her own?”

“Milly’s attending her.”

“Good,” he said. “It wouldn’t do to have her roaming about the place alone.”

“No, sir, it wouldn’t.” Her voice held a note of a disappointed nanny. “Had the mistress known the exact time of your arrival, I’m sure she’d have been waiting to greet you.”

The housekeeper was right. Even if his wife had known the time of his arrival, was it any wonder she wasn’t eagerly waiting for him with a smile? What had he done to deserve it?

“Perhaps young Ralph knows where she is,” Mrs. Wells said.

Jealousy flared within him. “Who the devil is Ralph?”

“The groom, sir.” the steward said. Dexter glared at him, and he seemed to shrink further. “He’s young but very talented.”

Talented?

That’s what Dexter was afraid of.

“With the horses,” the steward continued. “He was ostler at the Queen’s Head. I trust I did no wrong in hiring him.”

“Fetch him at once.”

“But sir, you’ve had a long journey. Wouldn’t you want to…”

“Do as I bid, Mr. Billings,” Dexter said, “or this will be your last day in my employ.”

“Of course.” The steward scuttled off. The staff lacked discipline if they deemed it acceptable to question his orders. Perhaps it was as well that he’d come now before they acquired too many bad habits.

“May we return to our duties inside?” the housekeeper asked. “There’s much to do before Lord Alderley arrives.”

“Yes, yes.” Dexter waved dismissively at her, and she slipped back inside, followed by the rest of the staff.

Shortly after, the steward returned, accompanied by a strikingly handsome young man with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and the kind of face that some women might describe as dangerous. Were he rich or titled, he’d have presented Dexter with some pretty stiff competition for the attention of London’s courtesans.

But his looks came with an air of arrogance. No doubt, he could claim responsibility for several broken hearts.

The steward nudged him, and he dipped into a bow.

“Ralph, is it?” Dexter asked.

The youth nodded.

“I believe you know where my wife is?”

“She’s taking a walk. She’ll be back soon if you’d care to wait—she usually returns about this time.”

Who was this young jackanapes that he knew so much about her habits?

“Take me to her,” Dexter said.

“I don’t know if that would be…”

“Did I ask for your advice or give you an order?” Dexter barked. “Lead the way.”

The groom hesitated, and the steward prodded him again.

“Very good, sir,” he said, his smile slipping. He pointed to a line of trees. “It’s this way.”

***

Dexter had to admit that the grounds of the Molineux estate were remarkably pretty—if one liked that sort of thing. Save for the ornamental garden, much of the grounds had been left to the care of Mother Nature. An uneducated country girl such as his wife would find much to like here compared to the harsh lines of London.

He heard a shriek, and his stomach tightened. Almost immediately, it was followed by splashing and high-pitched female laughter.

The path widened out into a clearing, with a lake in the center. On the opposite side, by the water’s edge, a picnic had been set out beside a large, flat rock, with what appeared to be a lady’s gown draped over it.

A young woman stood by the edge of the water, bent double with laughter. She turned and caught sight of him and screamed.

Then a vision emerged from the surface of the lake.

A goddess covered in water glistened in the sunlight. Though clothed, she might as well have been naked. White, lacy undergarments clung to her skin, leaving little to the imagination—a body ripe with curves, ready for the taking—soft, round breasts, made to fit his hands. The water had rendered the material translucent to reveal two peaks.

“Bloody hell!”

The groom stood transfixed. Dexter could swear he saw a bulge in the man’s breeches.

Dexter’s manhood had hardened the moment she’d risen from the water, and now it strained against his breeches. She raised her arms, and the action lifted her breasts into a deliciously full shape, as if in offering.

A low growl from the groom brought Dexter to his senses.

His wife was romping around, practically naked to be ogled at by the servants!

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!” he