Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,76

aren’t I?”

John and Daisy exchanged glances, then he nodded.

“Will you stay for supper?” he asked. “I’m sure we have enough to stretch.”

Daisy colored and looked away. Dexter recognized the shame of a woman struggling to make ends meet.

As usual, his compassionate little wife took the helm.

“How about we all dine at the Croxleigh Arms?” Meggie suggested.

“I don’t know…” Daisy began, but Dexter interrupted her.

“Please, Daisy,” he said. “Just one meal. Then, if you wish it, we won’t impose on you again. My wife wanted so much to meet you, and I…I find I miss you.”

“Very well,” she said crossly. “I’ll have to ask Mrs. Weatherby to keep an eye on Rosie, but I dare say she won’t mind. But don’t expect me to dress up in finery, brother. I cannot afford to indulge in silk.”

Her words might be harsh, but her voice had softened. Perhaps, in time, he may find the sister he’d lost.

***

Dexter stretched out on his back and studied the ceiling. The Croxleigh Arms dated back to Tudor times. He considered the beams which crossed the ceiling, following the uneven, parallel lines.

The bed shifted, and his wife stretched and yawned. He captured her arms and pulled her on top of him. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her little buds peaked against his skin.

She squirmed and parted her thighs until he felt her warm, sweet flesh against him.

“Meggie, you’re a temptress,” he said. “I vowed not to ravish you here, but, by God, woman, you’re enough to tempt any man to sin.”

She grinned and squeezed her thighs against him.

“Witch!” he hissed. “Do you want them to hear you scream my name?”

She pouted, and he thrust his hips upward. She squealed with laughter, and he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. She snuggled into him and placed her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she sighed.

“Much as I want to lie in this bed and make love to you all day, I fear we must rise,” he said. “I’m anxious to return to London before dark, and I know you’ll wish to see Daisy and John before we leave.”

“They seem happy,” she said, “and you should forgive yourself. You did what was best for her. It’s plain to see they’re very much in love.”

“True,” he said. “After her—ruination—I wanted no man to go near her. But John, it seemed, had loved her for years. I nearly beat the living hell out of him when I saw them together, but he was a determined man. He said that even if I broke every bone in his body, he’d not be deterred.”

He sighed and stroked his wife’s hair. “Were it not for me, John might have courted Daisy, and that bastard Hanson’d have never seduced her.”

Meggie’s head shot up, a wild look in her eyes. “Hanson?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“I-I’ve heard the name,” she said. “Perhaps Daisy mentioned it at supper last night. Yes, I remember—that was it.”

She wriggled out of his arms. “We should dress. I’d like to spend as much time with Daisy before we leave.”

Not meeting his gaze, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the trunk. She pulled out a shift and inspected it. He crept up behind her.

“Here, let me.” He reached for the garment, and she jumped at his touch. What the devil was wrong with her?

She turned and let him help her dress, chatting animatedly, her voice overly bright.

“I hope we’ll see Rosie this morning,” she said. “How old is she?”

“I’m ashamed to say I have no idea of my niece’s age,” he said. “About four, I think.”

“And is she…” his wife hesitated, “… John’s daughter?”

“Yes, thank Christ,” Dexter said. “John might be smitten with Daisy, but not even he’s so lacking in dignity that he’d accept another man’s child—especially that bastard Hanson’s.”

He held out his shirt.

“My turn,” he said. She snatched it from him.

Where had her smile gone?

“I trust you’re up to James’s standard,” he said. “If you perform a better service, I’ll have to advertise for another valet.”

She stiffened.

“Are you well?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Yes,” she said. “I merely felt a little queasy. Too much wine last night, I expect.” She gave him a watery smile and helped him with his shirt.

She was harboring a secret, and he knew what it was.

But he’d let her reveal the happy news in her own time.

Chapter Thirty

Georgie Hanson counted the notes, then slipped them into his pocket, which he gave a satisfied