“Ah, I see. I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, my dear. How unforgivable of me! I forgot to tell you something. I suppose I was preoccupied.” Caroline blushed deeper. “Well, let there be a right understanding between us, madam. These are indeed your rooms. However, there shall be no talk of your bed and my bed—only our bed, Caro.” Sir John’s face drew very close.
“Oh! Do you mean to share my bed every night? How extraordinary! But the servants, sir! What shall they make of this?”
“The servants?” Sir John laughed. “Why, they shall think no harm of it. Only that the mistress is so enamored of the master’s person that she cannot bear to be separated from him.”
Caroline could not decide whether she was distressed by this observation or not. She began to rise from the bed.
“What are you doing, Caroline?”
She gave him a look. “Perhaps you can sleep the day away, but I have duties to attend—your breakfast, for example.”
“Madam, please.” Sir John placed his hand upon hers. “Your duties can wait for tomorrow. It is my particular wish that you enjoy your first day as Lady Buford.” She paused and then, looking into those eyes, gave in. He smiled at her and then proceeded to get out of bed himself.
“But where are you going?” she asked.
He gave her a smile. “Patience, my dear. I shall return.”
With that, he left the bed. Caroline could not help but look with satisfaction upon her husband as he walked across the room, naked as Adam, before he pulled on his robe and disappeared into his bedroom. A quick word to the servant and he returned, crossing over to her side of the bed.
“Well, sir?” Caroline asked with an arch look. “What shall we do now?”
Sir John grinned, then reached and took her hand. “I am sure there are matters you wish to attend to in private,” Sir John said as he helped his wife out of bed and walked her to her dressing room. “I shall leave you, madam, but will return. Oh, by the way,” he added offhandedly, “the staff is rather short in number; I gave most of them their liberty for the day.” He bowed, kissed her hand, and left the room.
Caroline completed her morning routine by herself, somewhat irked that she would have no maid to help with her toilette. There was nothing for it—she put on her best robe and was able to do something with her hair before her husband returned. Sir John had an expectant look on his face that Caroline could not credit.
“Lovely robe,” was all he said before picking her up. Caroline, crying out, thought his plan was to take her to bed, so she was surprised that they went through the open doorway into his rooms and entered his dressing room.
There she saw a bath freshly drawn, steam rising from the tub and a bucket next to it. Her bewilderment turned to surprise when Sir John put her back on her feet and lovingly removed her robe. Without a word, he gently placed her into the bath.
She gasped as she lay back. The water enveloped her body, her aches soothed by the warmth. It was exactly what Caroline needed, but to her surprise, within a moment, she felt a stream of hot water cascade over her head. Her husband, Colonel Sir John Buford, war hero and Knight of the Bath, was seated on a stool behind her, washing her hair.
Never before had the practice felt so pleasurable. Caroline was temporarily lost in indulgence. At that moment, she would do anything Sir John asked of her.
The only words Sir John spoke to her, though, was a request that she lean forward so that her hair could be rinsed. Once accomplished, he squeezed as much of the excess water from her tresses as he could before he leaned over and kissed her ear.
“A moment, my dear,” he said and was gone. Disappointed with his departure, Caroline lathered the rest of her body, standing up to do her torso.
Task completed, Sir John returned to his dressing room to the spectacle of his tall, slim wife standing in the tub facing away from the door, soaping her body, her buttocks gleaming. His mouth went dry at the sight. Finally, he was able to whisper hoarsely, “Venus rises from the waves.”
Caroline looked over her shoulder at him. He could see a bit of suds had clung to the tips of her nipples.
With a smirk, his wife said, “Do not stand there staring, Sir John. Help me rinse off.”
Snapped out of his trance, he smiled and proceeded to do just that. Caroline reclined in the bath while Sir John reclaimed his stool. He sponged the remaining soap from her body and then held her hand while she relaxed.
Minutes passed before he said, “You will want to get dressed before the water gets cool, I think.”
Caroline grasped his hand firmly, a daring thought coming to her. “Perhaps you can help dry me with a towel.”
Sir John grinned. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”
Working together, they dried Caroline’s body while wetting their lips with kisses. They were able to remain in some control of their passions, however, and it was not long before the pair, dressed only in their robes, returned to Caroline’s rooms hand in hand.
By now, little could surprise Mrs. Buford, so it was no shock to see that breakfast had already been laid out for them on the table at the foot of the bed. Caroline noted with interest that the linens on the bed had been changed, but seeing no profit in inquiring about it, let the observation pass without comment.
While eating, Caroline asked, “What did you have in mind for today, sir? You seem to have everything planned. More tea? I assume we will leave this room at some point.”
“Thank you. Why, it had passed my mind that you might wish to do a bit of shopping,” Sir John replied. “Our ship leaves in four days—just long enough to have a dress or two fitted and pick up some other necessaries as well. There are shops nearby. We can be there in a trice.”
There were few things Caroline enjoyed more than shopping. Sir John’s suggestion brought a smile to her face, which brightened further when she realized that he meant to go with her.
“That sounds delightful, John! I would like very much to go.”
She paused and then looked at him through her eyelashes. “But the shops are nearby, did you say? I can see no reason for us to hurry… Johnny.”
She opened her robe.
There were few things that Caroline enjoyed more than shopping—but she might have found another.
Chapter 7
Marianne Brandon, hosting Mr. and Mrs. Tucker for tea the day after the wedding, sat in the parlor of Brandon House, enchanted by the sight of her husband lying face up on the floor playing with their daughter.
“Who is my love? Who is my love? Why, it is Joy! Ha, ha, ha!” Colonel Brandon cried repeatedly to the child sitting on his stomach. Joy Brandon squealed in delight.
Their guests looked on in amusement. The Tuckers had heard that the Brandons cared little about what other people thought of their attentions to their daughter. Many thought them odd, but Mary and Thomas could see no harm in it.
Finally, the babe began to yawn. “Time for a nap, my love,” said Marianne, retrieving Joy from her protesting father’s arms. With a sweet kiss, she gave the child to the nurse to put to bed and then returned to the guests. Already talk had turned to politics.
Mr. Tucker leaned towards the colonel in an earnest manner. “Every day, more common land falls to enclosure. It has yet to happen in Meryton, but can it be far behind? What is your opinion, Colonel?”
Brandon shifted uncomfortably. “Ah, had you asked me that question two years ago, you could be sure of my answer, but now, I see both sides. So much land has been wasted, used up. The latest arts in agriculture have not been used to their fullest extent. Those lands that have been enclosed have been the beneficiaries of suitable management. Yields are up due to proper rotation of crops. And yet—”