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* * *
As soon as Letty left the room, Bertram doubled over in agony, his member throbbing in tandem to his thoughts.
Oh God, I should have laid her out on my desk and taken her thoroughly.
He stared wistfully at the desk in question but knew that he would have regretted taking her like that. Especially if, as he suspected, it was her first time.
Instead he limped over to his chair and took a sip of the whisky he’d poured for her. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of his chair.
I have a letter to write.
Despite that, his mind insisted on replaying his time with Letty, the softness he could feel beneath the damned cotton of her gown, how her body responded to his every touch. She had been pliant and malleable in his arms and he’d felt the power he had to do whatever he wanted with her.
Almost drunk with it, he had used every ounce of his self-control to push her away. The way her eyes had raked over his body however, almost had him losing all control. If she hadn’t left when she had, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to control himself.
He murmured a prayer under his breath before pulling a blank paper toward him and beginning to craft a letter that had just enough detail to seem authentic but without giving away anything the British Army did not want the French to know.
While she is gone to deliver her letter, I need to get back and talk to Wellington.
He had decided on this course of action without consulting the Field Marshal and he knew he needed to apprise him of developments because if they were to set a trap, they could not do it without his knowledge or participation.
I hope he sees this the same way I do.
He sighed, and got down to work.
* * *
She felt as if she was walking on air. Wandering down the corridor, a smile playing on her lips, she avoided meeting anyone who might bring her back to earth, going out of the side door and down to the orchard.
When she bothered to pay attention, she realized she was on the way to Victoria’s grave again. She chuckled to herself as she came to a stop by the headstone. “I hope you do not mind how often I visit you. But at a time like this, I cannot help but think of you.”
She sighed, wondering if she imagined how the wind picked up.
“They tried to kill him. The Duke. But don’t worry, I didn’t let them. I won’t let them hurt himorGeorge. I promise you that.” She waited a moment but all she heard was the sighing of the leaves in nearby trees as the sea breeze whipped through them. She nodded once to the headstone, crossed herself, and then left feeling more determined than ever.
She spotted Mrs. Haversham and George by the pond at the bottom of the garden, throwing food to the fish and decided she might as well start there.
“Mrs. Haversham!” she lifted her hand up and waved.
The nanny turned and smiled at her, waving back.
“Letty!” George yelled, dropping the bread he was holding and running to her. She picked him up off the ground with a wide grin on her face before he could bowl her over.
“I take it you’re pleased to see me, young master Marquess?”
He grinned. “You can just call me George.” He leaned his chin against her shoulder, one arm around her neck as she walked towards the nanny. “Have you come to help us feed the fish?”
“Of course. You and Mrs. Haversham always find the most interesting things to do.”
“Yes. Later we’ll go for a walk and collect bugs.”
Letty grimaced. “Wonderful.” She arrived at Mrs. Haversham’s side and smiled at her. “Good afternoon.”
The nanny nodded to her. “Afternoon to you. Have you come to join us?”
“Well, yes and no. I wanted to ask you a question, actually.” She put George back down on his feet and he went back to the edge of the pond, sitting cross-legged as he continued to throw bread in the water. There were a variety of colored fish all waiting patiently to grab a morsel. They were quite pretty to look at and Letty was distracted for a moment watching them.
“Miss Strange?”
