Page 40 of Managing the Major

Still grinning, he went to Mrs. Carter and requested tea and cakes for his guests and hot water brought to his chamber. Although disappointed that propriety prevented Octavia from visiting unchaperoned, he had to admit the pair entertained him. Freya was in the kitchen, and while his housekeeper busied herself preparing tea, Alastair lifted the cloth from a tray of rolls cooling on the counter. He took one and rearranged the fragrant bread to disguise the theft.

Outside the door, he offered a piece to the dog and ate the rest himself. As a boy, he always filched pastries from the kitchen, and someone usually caught him. Humming, Alastair abandoned his stick. He was limping, his left leg stiff and painful, but he entered his apartments with a light heart.

When Alastair lay ill in the hospital at Rangoon, Rafe had supervised the addition of a downstairs bedchamber and sitting room at Fairfax and brought him back here against the doctor’s orders, determined to see him recover at home. He also insisted on bringing in a large bathing tub, which had proved invaluable in his rehabilitation, along with his cousin’s combination of encouragement and bullying.

It took both his valet Carter and Thomas to help Alastair into the copper tub, but the hot water soothed his throbbing knee and the muscle cramps in his sore leg. He soaked until the water chilled, laying his head back against the towel Carter had folded for a headrest.

If only Rafe would hurry and return from France, he could hardly wait to share his accomplishments today and tell him of Lucy’s reappearance. After reflecting on the matter, Alastair had decided not to explain their relationship to Octavia right now. He didn’t want to muddy the waters, and hoped to have little more to do with the present Lady Crawford, anyway.

After he dried, Carter applied a hot compress to his knee, then massaged the entire left leg with foul-smelling ointment. Gingerly stretching out the limb afterwards, Alastair found it sore, but not unreasonably so. Using Henry Angelo’s exercises, he worked his left arm and hand. The weights had certainly helped, and he could do some curls and even a partial shoulder raise now without breaking into a cold sweat.

“May I say, sir, how nice it is to have guests in the house again,” Carter said, tying a simple cravat for Alastair’s outfit that evening. He held up the charcoal coat for Alastair to shrug into and smoothed down the shoulders.

“Captain Prescott is a frequent visitor, is he not?”

“Forgive me, Major, but it’s not the same as having young ladies here. They add a certain gaiety to the premises, especially one as lovely as Miss Merrick.”

“What are you driving at, Carter?”

“Well—er, the staff—thought since you are entertaining again, Fairfax might host a small house party. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, and Mrs. Carter could easily hire help from the village…” he trailed off uncertainly as Alastair gave him an exasperated look.

“For heaven’s sake, did I become blind as well as incapacitated after my accident? Out of the blue, Nerissa decides she is missing a gentleman in her life, and now I find living in the country bores my servants. What’s next? The horses might rebel because I didn’t realize they preferred alfalfa to bromegrass?”

The valet’s face fell considerably, and Alastair sighed. “Never mind my outburst, Carter. It’s just frustrating that I hadn’t a clue. You may tell Mrs. Carter I’ll think about doing something this summer.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, sir.”

When he reached the drawing room, both ladies had dressed for dinner. Octavia relaxed in an overstuffed leather armchair with Freya in her lap, idly stroking the terrier’s ears. She looked up with a welcoming smile and his pulse quickened.

A flowing silk gown, the color of forget-me-nots, clung to her breasts, underscored by satin ribbons that crisscrossed the bodice. Her tempting figure inflamed his senses: She was so precisely to his taste, long-legged and slender-waisted, with softly curving hips and a high bosom. He hadn’t thought it would be so difficult to keep his hands from her at Fairfax.

Last night, he had deliberately provoked her into a kiss, unable to resist the temptation of their privacy. What had started as flirtation wasn’t so simple anymore. Each day he desired Octavia more, with an intensity as surprising as it was disconcerting. Her innocent kiss left him in a state of arousal that lasted until he reached his chamber and made quick work of things.

Just looking at her revived all the sensual imagery that had brought him to that intense release. He sincerely hoped he could make it tonight without a palpable sign of arousal, but his unruly member might have other ideas.

Genevieve was reading on the sofa but put down her book and patted the seat beside her. “Did you follow Octavia’s instructions?”

“I did, and they helped immensely. I hope you managed to amuse yourselves in my absence?”

“Octavia will deny it, but her head nodded most decisively on several times. I, however, admit to a delightful nap and refuse to apologize for my indolence.”

He laughed when Octavia rolled her eyes. It was a frequent habit and the impudent gesture never failed to amuse him. Alastair glanced down at the title of Genevieve’s discarded book. “The Kidnapping of Lady Penelope Goodheart by a Nefarious Duke,” he read aloud, raising an eyebrow at her.

“An excellent read,” she replied, unrepentant.

Octavia stifled a laugh, which escaped in an unladylike snort, and he dissolved in laughter at her horrified expression. It was infectious, and soon both ladies joined him.

Chapter Seventeen

A Misunderstanding and a Reconciliation

The atmosphere at dinner was festive, and Alastair ordered a bottle of champagne brought up from the cellar to celebrate the day’s success. After dining on loin of beef and a dessert of apple tarts—Mrs. Carter never failed to indulge his appetite for sweets—they retired to the drawing room for card games.

Genevieve easily won at Loo, drawing every trump suit favorably, while Alastair suffered a steady run of low cards. When they moved to a game of Commerce, Octavia played smartly and gave him a good run, but he prevailed in the end to beat both opponents. Close to midnight, they put the cards aside, counting the markers to settle up.

When he suggested they call things even, Octavia refused. “I always honor my debts when I gamble—which is unfortunate, since I’m hardly ever lucky at cards.”

“But you should know, Major Alastair, I make it a firm practice to collect my debts, even in casual games,” Genevieve added. “Lord Hope’s pin money doesn’t go very far, though he frequently adds to my cache by losing our wagers.”