Lady Grenham’s conversation salon was a highly respected establishment in London society of the day. Each Thursday afternoon the grand lady herself would lead rousing discussions of the most pressing matters of the day, and anyone of any social standing was only too happy to have the opportunity to contribute.

Yet at least to Helena and Judith, this week the salon was a strikingly quiet affair. The two sat side by side on an exquisitely tasteful sofa as usual, yet instead of being thronged by admirers and hangers-on, today the seats around them sat vacant.

After several long moments of stewing in silence, Judith cleared her throat and gave a shaky little laugh. “Perhaps we should join our friends, don’t you think?” She gestured toward the dozens of noble ladies who clustered on the far side of the room, engaged in a spirited conversation and paying no mind at all to the two St. George sisters.

Helena sniffed at this proposition. “I cannot see why we should move ourselves for their convenience. There is plenty of room here in our usual place.”

“You’re right, of course.”

“Really, they are the rude ones for not coming to engage us in their surely very banal conversation.”

Another pall of silence fell over the two sisters as each struggled not to look bothered.

“Besides,” Helena continued, unprompted. “They’re all probably talking all about whatever absurd new scandal is going around town, the silly women.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard!” Judith laughed. “It seems a certain Earl’s daughter has run off with a Frenchman, if you can believe—”

“Oh, who cares about such frippery?” Helena spat, silencing her sister as she snapped her Oriental fan shut for emphasis. “There are far more important things to discuss than Earl Whoever. Honestly, the gossip that goes on in this setting is most off-putting.”

“Of course, yes, yes.”

“I mean, just to start,” said Helena with an ostentatious reopening of her fan. “Can you believe that disgusting half-sister of ours and her horrendous Mister Morton? Buying their own house, not ten minutes’ ride from the St. George estate? Where they intend to move in and live as any other married couple?”

“No!”

“It’s scandalous, isn’t it? And Christopher not even of age yet. Disgraceful!”

“They…are married, though, Helena,” said Judith cautiously.

“As if that should make their pairing any more acceptable!” Helena scoffed.

Judith halfheartedly agreed. “It’s a wonder the whole of London society isn’t talking about her. The way they used to, I mean.”

“Oh, I know! Especially after her behaviour at Lady Wynn’s dinner party. Can you believe Lady Wynn even invited her to join her social club? A lowborn former maid like Clara?”

“Preposterous! And even after you so kindly told Lady Wynn how unacceptable that would be found by the ton.”

Helena shook her head in disbelief. “I can scarcely believe how rudely Lady Wynn behaved at that party. Chastising the two of us for as kind a gesture as that, and in front of all her guests, no less.”

“She will be sorry when she loses our friendship,” said Judith.

“Most sorry, exactly.”

Helena’s thoughts raced, her grip tightening on her fan. That no-good half-sister…squandering our father’s money on a house for her and that grasping guardian!

She felt a wave of sadness lap at the shores of her consciousness, remembering how Lady Wynn—dear Lady Wynn, so loved and respected among London’s women—spoke up in favour of Clara. How the other women who were present had laughed at Clara’s jokes, had given her all those ill-deserved compliments.

It’s all so unfair, Helena thought through gritted teeth. What did she ever do to gain such acceptance in our social circle?

“Does something strike you as…funny about all this?” Judith asked in a melancholic tone.

“What do you mean?”

Judith nodded to the crush of people on the far side of the ballroom. “None of them have come to speak with us in all this time. You don’t suppose they’re avoiding us, do you?”

Helena gave a haughty laugh, thrusting her nose higher into the air. “Avoiding? Us? I should say not! They must simply be…intimidated. By our good graces and social standing, I expect.”

With a sceptical frown, Judith nodded her assent at this, giving her least convincing laugh yet as she casually checked the straightness of her new hat in the reflection of a nearby mirror. Helena huffed as she looked in the other direction, then surreptitiously did the same with her own headwear.

“We should pay our dear brother Christopher a visit soon, don’t you think?” asked Judith.

“I was just about to suggest the same thing. For his welfare, of course.”

“Of course.”

The sisters breathed out a mutual sigh of consternation. They stared off into the distance or checked their appearances over and over in the quiet of the salon—anything to keep themselves from noticing the glances and whispers from the other side of the room.

* * *

“Oh, Edward, it’s perfect!”

Clara skipped down the path with the light steps of a child, heedless of the chilly autumn wind that sent oak leaves turning somersaults in her wake. The house was a magnificent old-style manse that rested in the shade of a thick wood of oak trees. Not nearly so grand as the St. George estate, of course, but in its own way it looked like a charming country house right out of a book of fairy tales. It was kept in wonderful repair by the friendly groundskeeper, who had left them alone to inspect the estate at their leisure.

“I knew you’d like it,” said Edward with a smile as he walked after her, hands thrust in his pockets. “I thought you might want to spend some of your time getting the place set up to your liking. He might grumble, but I rather suspect Mister Finch would appreciate the reprieve from his normal legal duties to help you order whatever furniture suits you.”

She squealed, sighting a stand of tulips growing all in a row by the front door of the estate. Dashing over to get a closer look, she drank in the sweet air of the house.

“I cannot believe it is really ours!” Clara said with glee.

Edward put a hand on her lower back and motioned for them to move forward. “Well, you have plenty of time to get used to the idea. Christopher will not age into his title for two and a half more years.”

“And after that…?” she asked as the two stepped through the front door and into the grand entryway. The house was bare of furniture or ornamentation, but the clean stone walls and polished floors only served to excite Clara’s imagination at what they might put within.

“After Christopher becomes Duke in fact as well as title? And after I give you that honeymoon we’ve been planning?”

“That’s right.”

Edward scrunched his mouth to one side as he chewed over this idea. “Well, I am not certain, but I think I should be prepared to go into business for myself, once my guardianship is terminated. And of course, we shall have the remainder of your inheritance.”

Clara rushed about one empty room after another, inspecting each line and corner with joy, though her mind was fixed completely on her husband’s words. “So we move into this house, then? We will live here together on our own?”

“That is certainly my thinking, if it pleases you. Alone save for any staff we employ, I suppose. I am sure your Françoise should like to accompany you here, and perhaps we can wheedle Christopher into giving up Mister Momplaisir or that Scottish kennel master, if you like. And…er, any children we have?” Edward replied, raising his voice and walking quickly after his bride from one empty room to another.

Clara peered back at him around the corner of an open doorway. “And what shall happen after that?”

“Oho, my darling bride wishes to glimpse into the future, eh?” said Edward, rubbing his chin with an amiable smile. “I fear prognostication is a little beyond my usual professional skills. But if I correctly understand how these things go, we shall live here, work when needed, travel when we are able. At some point, Christopher will marry. Perhaps his children and ours will be playmates?”

“That sounds lovely!” Clara sang. “And will we have visitors? And balls?”

“Whenever you like, my love. And the best part of all is that we shall not have to let Helena or Judith into our house at all—we can simply bar the door and close the shades if they make an appearance.”

Clara chuckled, relieved at the thought that this place will be theirs to keep as they pleased. She hopped down the corridor with great eagerness, picturing just where she would begin building their own private library. “And after that?”

Edward caught up to her in the largest sitting room, all polished stone and antique hardwood. He broke into a wide smile as soon as his eyes fell on her, as he always did. “After that, we shall grow old and fat, I think. I know I certainly intend to, at least. Probably our children will squabble over who gets which portion of the house, and then by some point we will be two stooped skeletons in rocking chairs in our garden.”

“Hmm…that is too far in the future, I fear,” Clara laughed. “I can enjoy being a cantankerous old bat when the time comes. Let us be young a while longer, first.”

“As you wish.”

“Tell me more about this family we are going to have, first.”

Hands folded coyly behind his back, Edward began to amble in circles about the sitting room. “Oh, I imagine we shall have five or six children.”

“Five or six?” Clara repeated, laughing in shock. “Only if you have an equal share in birthing them, husband.”

Edward nodded with a jocular grin on his handsome dark face. “In that case, perhaps just two or three would be bearable.”

“I think we had best start with one,” said Clara, examining the tall glass windows along the western wall, autumn sunlight streaming into the room. “I fear siblings hold little appeal for me.”

The thought of parenthood suddenly gave Clara pause. Actually, what do I know of motherhood in any capacity? she thought with growing trepidation. After all, she had never known what it was to be raised by a mother or father and feared she would have little aptitude for the role.

“How does one even become a mother?” Clara wondered aloud as her finger ran along the cold stone hearth.

“Oh, that? Well, let’s see…” Edward grew quiet in that way Clara had learned indicated he had something sneakily playful up his sleeve. She turned just in time to grab onto his arm, which was poised to goose her right on her derriere.

“Not so fast, you!” she laughed in victory. But Edward was too quick for her this time, and before she could squeeze out another word he leaned his head forward and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. Clara felt her grip weaken as the force of that kiss sent shivers through her spine, and she returned it gladly just in time for Edward to catch hold of each of her wrists.

He smiled, walking her back towards the wall of the great sitting room. “I had thought you already knew the mechanics of making a family,” Edward said in a low voice. “It really is quite a simple affair.”

Clara felt her heart pump with excitement, no less ardent for how much time they had spent in similarly charged situations for the last three months since their marriage. “Really? Tell me more,” she said, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Well, unless I misunderstand greatly, it all starts just like this.” And without warning he reached his head forward once more, her arms pinned at her side, and he gave her another impassioned kiss on the mouth. Clara kissed him back, swept up in the intoxication of their romance. They kissed again, harder, Edward’s tongue grappling gently with her own, and she gasped in surprise to discover a familiar hardness appearing between his legs.

“Edward!” Clara laughed, her eyes widening. “Right here?”

“Why not?” Edward asked with a manic smile, putting a gloved hand against her soft shoulders and pulling her closer to him. “This is our house, after all, and I cannot keep myself away from you a second longer.”

As she put her hands around the back of his neck, Clara felt Edward’s mouth open gently, and she eagerly snaked her tongue between his expectant lips. The previous months had been one glorious discovery after another in the world of marital pleasure, yet she fancied kissing in this manner was the one that held her thoughts most firmly. Until she felt Edward’s nimble fingers roam elsewhere on her milky skin, at least.

“I say,” she gasped between kisses, “what happened—mmm—to the staid, serious Edward Morton who first welcomed me to the St. George estate?”

Edward breathed heavily as he nibbled at her lower lip, sending a shiver of pleasure through her frame. Pulling his head back, he looked at her with a hungry smile. “It seems he finally learned something from that lovely young woman. Something about enjoying himself, I suppose.”

“He is a good student, that Mister Morton,” she giggled.

Clara felt her breath come faster as she felt the weight of Edward’s frame leaning over her. Pressed against this stone wall in this unfamiliar house, even as empty as it was, she found it easy to imagine that anyone could walk in and discover the two of them at any second. Rather than restraining their tender caresses, this impelled her to only touch and kiss her husband more fervently.

A memory of their powerful, tearful kiss in the St. George library bubbled up in her mind, only fanning the flames of her desire. It seems like so long ago, she mused. A twinge of sadness came to her then, yet that was obliterated with a gentle bite from Edward on her full, flushed lip.

“I find I just cannot get enough of your body,” Edward murmured, his tongue flicking gently at her ear with each syllable. Their bodies ground against one another, bumping against a nearby sconce with an unlit candle. “I wake up each morning and I find I cannot wait to do exactly this.”

Clara moaned, each of his words serving to ignite an overpowering feeling of need within her body. She thought to put her hands on his body as he so deliciously did on hers, yet she was so transfixed by the sheer joy at his touch that she could scarcely move her hands from their position locked behind his head.

“I had thought the only cure for this affliction might be further indulgence,” Edward continued, interrupting his kissing but not his caressing as he spoke these words. “So far I have had little success. But I think the only way forward might be in persisting another few dozen times, just to be sure.”

“Enough talk. Touch me,” Clara murmured, turning her head to one side to give Edward better access to the sensitive skin on her neck. As ever, he obliged her in this request only too happily, and her stimulated gasp was echoed by a grunt from within her husband.

Clara felt a now-familiar heat rising within her. Grabbing one of his strong, manly hands in her own delicate fingers, she pulled his hand to her full, heaving breast to feel that her nipple was stiff with yearning. Feeling herself beginning to grow wet at the thought of falling to the floor and being ravished in the midst of this empty house, Clara feared for a moment she would not be able to resist the temptation to continue.

Then she stopped and giggled, feeling his tongue dash against a ticklish spot. Good sense momentarily restored to her by this pleasant interruption, Clara laced her fingers through Edward’s gorgeous dark curls and pulled away from their embrace.

“Patience, husband,” she said, tapping a finger against Edward’s lips as his face contorted in a disappointed expression. “We have only just escaped being the subject of all the gossip of London. Let us show an ounce of temperance lest we get pulled back into the limelight by a nosy groundskeeper.”

Edward sighed and put an arm around Clara’s waist as they began to walk side by side back toward the entrance of their new home. “Are you sure it was not I who taught you something, after all? Specifically, how to be a spoil-sport?”

Clara leaned her head against her husband’s strong, masculine shoulder, enjoying how their relative heights made this a comfortable posture. “You’ve taught me much and more, Edward. I would thank you for that yet again if it did not make you so adorably bashful.”

“Besides,” she said with a wistful look back at the house that would soon house their family. “We have our whole lives together. A little waiting will hurt no one.”

Edward kissed her on the cheek. “I think we both learned that a bit of waiting can make the prize all the sweeter.”

“Not too long, though,” Clara cooed. “Maybe only until we get back to the St. George manor.”

Taking his right hand and placing it on her ample rear end as they continued to stroll through the corridor, Clara added, “Now, tell me more about this future of ours.”

THE END

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