The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2) Read online

  “Help me, then,” she commanded, refusing to give an inch. She felt alive, engaged in a battle of wits and wills, with an undercurrent of sensuality disturbing everything that made her a woman.

  “As you wish, Ma’am.” He pushed her hands to her side and untied her belt, abrupt moves that brooked no refusal.

  Her robe slid off her shoulders and onto the bed, and he leaned past her to pick it up and move it out of the way. She caught his scent…the wine he’d had at dinner, the touch of sandalwood and musky wool…all of which cried man.

  The room was warm but even so, she could feel herself responding to his presence, and her nipples tightened beneath the thin chemise. Disgusted, she chided herself. She was no mare going into heat at the scent of a stallion.

  “This comes off,” he said, lifting one ribbon from her shoulder and untying it. The other followed and she found she’d grasped the front to hold it in place.

  “Let go,” he ordered.

  “Turn your back,” she demanded.

  “Not a chance,” he countered. “You are the Lady of Wolfbridge. I am one of your gentlemen and if you tell me to fuck you, I am duty bound to do so. I want to see what lies in store in case you decide to request my services.” His eyes were glued to her face, blazing with some emotion she could not define.

  “Blunt words, sir,” she returned his stare with difficulty, since his statment had caught her off guard.

  “Would you prefer sweet ones? The intent would be the same.”

  “From you? I’d be surprised if you even know any sweet words.” She paused. “You like being in charge, in control, don’t you?”

  “Who doesn’t?” He raised an eyebrow. “Now are you going to let me take that off the easy way, or shall I rip it from your body?”

  An unusual dart of what could possibly be lust pierced her loins, but she fought it, tired though she was. “Go ahead then. Take the damn thing.”

  She dropped her hands and looked at him as the flimsy cotton puddled around her ankles, refusing to turn away, blush or avert her eyes. He wanted her naked in front of him? He would have his wish. But damned if she’d ever take him into her bed.

  “You need more food,” he said after a few long moments.

  “You need better manners,” she flashed back. “I can get food anytime. God knows where you’d find new manners.”

  “Point well taken, my Lady.” He slipped her nightgown over her head.

  “And what’s this about…about…f-f-fucking you?” She stuttered a little. It was not an unfamiliar word, but also not one she’d used very often. If ever.

  “Giles will tell you.” He pushed back the covers. “In you go.”

  She had no choice, since once again he lifted her as if she were thistledown and deposited her within the linens. “Are you comfortable?” He strolled around snuffing the candles and making sure the fire was banked for the night.

  She sighed. “Does it matter?”

  He was quiet for a moment, then picked up her hairbrush from the bureau, and came to her side. To her surprise, he ran it gently through what was left of her hair. “There. Better.” He put the brush back. “And yes it does.”

  “Uhh…” Astonished by his behaviour, she had no idea how to respond.

  “Good night.” He walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Well.” She blew out the candle next to her bed. “That was unexpected.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  She is recovering.

  The welcome thought flashed through Giles’s mind as Gabriel escorted Gwyneth to his study. He rose with a welcoming smile. She smiled back.

  “You have breakfasted?” he asked, nodding to Gabriel and taking over her care.

  “I have indeed. Thank you,” she took the seat he held for her. “And I am looking forward to this conversation. I have, as I mentioned last night, some questions for you, Giles.”

  “I am glad,” he nodded, resuming his own seat behind his desk. “Glad that you feel up to asking questions, and glad that you have formed them by yourself. All good signs that your recovery is well underway.”

  She agreed. “I was in an appalling condition, wasn’t I?”

  He hesitated.

  “Please. Give me the truth with no bark upon it. I need to know.”

  He chose his words carefully. “When I found you, I believe you were near death.”

  She took a breath, but remained silent, her eyes fixed on his face.

  “There was no food, little water, and the only warmth came from a small fire which was using what must have been the last of your firewood. You had aged blankets that you had bundled around yourself, a bite on your foot from a rat, and—” he paused.

  “And?”

  “You were infested with other, smaller vermin.” He sighed. “I could not bring you into the carriage as you were. I got rid of the worst of it all, cut off most of your hair because of it, and wrapped you in the blankets I had brought with me. All were burned when we returned here.”

  “I was starving,” she murmured, one hand drifting absently to touch a curl.

  “You were.” He folded his arms. “What happened, my Lady? Can you tell me?”

  She nodded. “I can now, I think. It seems like another lifetime, and thus easier to talk about.” She leaned back in the chair. “My stepson happened, to put matters in a nutshell. The Earl, my husband, passed away at the end of an illness which had begun to make itself known close to a year before. The doctor believed his heart was failing and could do little to help, other than recommend rest and tranquillity. His son from his first marriage arrived unexpectedly a few months later, and from then on...”

  She paused, her lips tightening, her brows meeting in a frown. “For some reason he had taken a violent dislike to me and had not returned to Kilham Abbey after the wedding. From what I saw of him at that time, he seemed mean, angry and potentially vicious. I assumed that money was involved, since my husband mentioned his son’s tendency toward profligacy.” She shifted in her chair. “The Earl was not a miser, by any means. But he was at heart a decent man with a belief that he was best served by a policy of financial caution. I certainly did not starve at Kilham Abbey, although we lived quietly and hardly ever entertained.”

  “Did you go to London?”

  She shook her head. “No. Never.”

  “So, your stepson arrived …and…”

  “My husband’s health deteriorated. There were arguments, angry words…” She swallowed. “None of which were beneficial to my husband’s health. After he passed away, barely a day after the funeral, his stepson threw me out. I was told—not asked, told—that I was to remove to the Dower House forthwith, and only allowed to take with me the clothes that were essential. I managed to pack a couple of books as well. Everything else was, according to him, part of the Kilham estate, and thus his.”

  “A brute of a man, and no credit to his father,” observed Giles.

  “I could not agree more,” she answered.

  “What happened then?”

  “Then…there was Mrs Ashe, the only resident of the Dower House. As sour-faced and mean a woman as one could possibly imagine. She begrudgingly made food and served it by leaving a plate of it somewhere in the hall. More than a few times the rodents got to it before I did. She never cleaned…I found myself doing that with a bucket I’d stumbled across outside. She lived in the servants’ quarters, and I’ll lay odds that there were no rats there.” Gwyneth shivered.

  “There was nobody with you when I found you.” Giles looked sombre. “You were quite alone.”

  She blinked and then nodded. “I think I knew she’d gone. It got colder and colder, and so quiet. I was already hungry and foraging in what parts of the garden were still accessible. I had no winter clothes, you see. Only the blankets and I couldn’t afford to let them get wet…”

  Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Giles hated to push her, but he needed to know it all, to hear it all, then it could be put away in the pas
t where it belonged.

  “I lost track of time. I heard nobody. Finally I risked going to her quarters. They were bare. Nothing I could use. No clothing, no blankets, and worst of all, no food. The larder had been stripped clean. I cannot say whether she had very little to start with, or whether she was cruel enough to pack everything and take it with her. I don’t even know when she left, to be honest. But I would guess that’s when my journey downhill really began.”

  Giles held up his hand. “And now your journey is upward, my Lady. Back into the light.”

  She nodded, and he watched as some of the tension left her shoulders. “How did you find me?”

  “I believe I mentioned that Wolfbridge is in trust for those related to the line? You are related to the line.”

  “Yes, I remember. But how did you know to come to the Dower House for me?”

  He shrugged. “Those currently in residence at Kilham Abbey, although devoid of manners, could not deny me the information I sought.”

  “I would imagine not, Giles.” She allowed herself a smile. “I’m sure you can be most persuasive.”

  He waved that aside. “When the needs arise, yes. The main thing is that I found you in time. And now, here we are, you are recovering well, out of bed and asking questions.” He looked at her. “I shall do my best to answer them.”

  “I scarce know where to begin,” she replied, “since my mind keeps coming up with more.”

  “Then start with the simplest. Sometimes those answers will cover many of the more complicated enquiries.”

  “Why are there no maids?”

  “An excellent beginning.” He kept his eyes on her, watching for her reactions, learning about this new Lady he’d be serving for an undetermined length of time. “The charter for Wolfbridge specifies that no other woman may reside at Wolfbridge, other than the Lady herself.”

  “Really?” Gwyneth’s eyebrows rose. “How unusual.”

  “In fact, there are maids. We have several who come in every day, two of whom are daughters of Mrs Barnsley. All are local girls. They work during the day, late morning through midafternoon, mostly, and there is little interaction with them at those times. They are quite happy with that and of course they receive a wage for their services.”

  “So my room…”

  “Was, and will continue to be, cleaned when you are not there. Along with laundry and other household chores.”

  “So I have no personal maid?”

  “Lady Adalyn worked around that very question,” answered Giles. “She came to an arrangement with Jane Barnsley, as she was then. Jane arrived from her home nearby every morning. She tended to Lady Adalyn’s needs, took care of her clothing and so on, and then departed. Everything else Lady Adalyn required, we were able to provide.”

  “I see. I must give thought to my needs in that area, I suppose.” Her face gave away little of her thoughts, but she was obviously turning this over in her mind. She looked back at Giles. “Why are there no women? How did that come about?”

  “It goes back to the original Lady Wolfbridge. Upon her husband’s passing, she was besieged by suitors, all interested more in the property than her Ladyship. She grew more and more frustrated and then found herself enamoured of one of the gentlemen on her staff. She would have married him, I think, but as luck would have it his eyes turned elsewhere.”

  “Oh dear,” Gwyneth winced. “That must have been a disappointment.”

  “I’m sure it was. Especially when she discovered he’d also fathered a child with one of her maids.”

  “A charming man indeed.” Gwyneth’s tone was dry. “I assume she kicked him out?”

  “She did. Along with every other woman. From that point on, she was the only female in residence, and she made sure the tradition would continue. It must have been a challenge and I’m sure many legal minds must have pounded on her door, but she held fast.” He smiled slightly. “I am of the opinion she had influence with some highly placed nobles in the Parliament of that time, because she accomplished the impossible. Wolfbridge was secured against any kind of entail other than that dictated by her Ladyship. And it has been thus ever since.”

  “That is impressive,” she nodded. “A truly forceful personality I would think.”

  “I probably would have enjoyed meeting her.” He chuckled. “Working for her might have been another matter entirely.”

  She shared his laughter, shaking her head. Then moved forward with her questions. “The gentlemen who live here. Can you tell me about them? What are their duties?”

  Giles took his time in replying. “Their duties, my Lady, are whatever you tell them to do.”

  “I have complete control?”

  “You do, yes.” Giles steepled his fingers and looked at her over the top of them. “Obviously it would be better not trying to take over the kitchen, or the finances. Jeremy has his finger on the pulse of this house and runs it very efficiently, Evan is the master of everything edible, and Royce will be overseeing the crops along with all else to do with the financial end of running the Manor. Those are accepted duties, and I would not advise altering them.”

  “From what I have seen so far, I would agree. But I think there is more, is there not?”

  “Only if you want there to be,” he said gently. “The fundamental principle of Wolfbridge is that we try to bring ourselves to the very best that we can be. We’re not perfect, but we try to be better, to…as our motto says…bring the light unto ourselves.”

  “Yes, an excellent mandate,” she agreed.

  “This may involve a variety of things, my Lady. Including developing close and affectionate ties with your gentlemen. After all, being loved is one of the best ways to bring light into a life.”

  “You say close and affectionate ties.” She looked him straight in the eye. “How close?”

  “As close as you want.”

  “I can make the choice?”

  “Yes, my Lady. The choice is always yours. You choose how to behave, how to interact with everyone, what decisions need to be made on a variety of subjects pertaining to Wolfbridge. You choose how to bestow your affections, and should you ever feel the need for physical companionship, you choose which gentleman you will take to your bed.” He spoke in blunt and simple terms.

  “Just like that?” Her eyes had widened.

  “Just like that.”

  “Is there no gossip? No scandal?”

  He wondered at her question, but each Lady responded differently when she discovered the four men waiting on her hand and foot could also be looked upon as potential bedfellows.

  “Wolfbridge has been unique for nearly two centuries, my Lady, two hundred years of the same entail—always going to a woman—and the rule prohibiting any other women permission to reside here. The matter of the gentlemen is rarely noticed any more, let alone discussed. Especially in our local environment where the Manor is so closely intertwined with the lives of everyone around it. Being in existence for so long, and in such a quiet place…well it’s not even a topic of conversation any more. It simply is.”

  “I see.” Absently she lifted a hand and tugged on her bottom lip. “So they really are my gentlemen. That’s not just an expression…?”

  “No, Ma’am. They are yours to command. They want to obey you and make you happy. All you need to do is to let them know how.”

  She swallowed. “That, Giles, is going to require quite a bit of thought.”

  *~~*~~*

  “Excuse me, Giles,” Jeremy popped his head around the door after a brief knock. “My Lady has company if she feels up to it. Mrs Barnsley and Jane have arrived and beg the honour of being introduced.”

  “Trick is not with them?

  “He is expected shortly, but was delayed.” Jeremy grinned. “Something about a horse…”

  “It always is,” sighed Giles.

  “Trick was one of the gentlemen, I believe?” Gwyneth looked at Jeremy.

  “Yes, my Lady. Trick was our head groom.”
<
br />   “So there is nobody in that position at the moment?”

  “Formally, no,” Giles answered her question. “But we have a couple of reliable stable lads, and Trick himself still keeps an eye on our stock. There were few horses at Fivetrees, so they are now with ours, and given that our estates border each other, Trick is able to manage both quite well.”

  Gwyneth gathered her skirts. “Then I would very much enjoy meeting this Mrs Barnsley and her daughter.” She rose as Jeremy hurried to her side and took her arm. “Allow me, my Lady.”

  Gratefully, she leaned on him. “I am growing frustrated at my lack of strength,” she complained.

  “Patience, Lady Gwyneth. Patience.” Giles gave her a reproving look.

  “I’m not well equipped with that virtue, I’m afraid.”

  She nodded at him and allowed Jeremy to take her to the Rose room, where two women awaited her. Both dipped into low curtseys when she entered.

  The elder, who had to be Mrs Barnsley, smiled. “My Lady. Thank yer fer yer kindness in seein’ us. I’m Mrs Barnsley and this is m’daughter Jane. Now Mrs Jones, I’m ‘appy to say.”

  Beaming, she turned as Jane rose from her curtsey. “Welcome to Wolfbridge, my Lady,” she said quietly. “We’re both happy to see you up and around, and in good health.”

  Gwyneth repressed a sound of surprise as she saw the brutal scarring on one side of Jane’s lovely face. Barely a moment later, she’d recovered and returned both smiles. “I should thank you for being so kind as to visit.” She let Jeremy escort her to the sofa where she lowered herself into the corner and waved to the other two to take a seat as well. “It’s time I got to know some of the people of Wolfbridge. I have heard your name mentioned more than a few times,” she smiled.

  “Been ‘ere all me life, Ma’am, raised me brood ‘ere, an’ looks like I’ll be buried ‘ere, an’ all.” She grinned. “That’s the way of it. An’ my Jane’ll be the same most like.”

  “Ma,” protested Jane.

  “She’s right,” chuckled Gwyneth. “Being part of the land on which one lives is indeed the way it should be.”