A Wicked Gentleman

  The sound of childish trebles came from the hall. Cornelia jumped to her feet and headed for the library door, Harry on her heels.

  Eliza Cox appeared from nowhere and bustled over to the little party. “Miss Linton, isn’t it? I’m Eliza Cox. So happy to make your acquaintance…and these are the children…such pretty little dears. Let me take you to the nursery…I’ve ordered soft-boiled eggs for the children, and I’m sure you’ll be glad of a nice hot cup of tea, Miss Linton. There’s a good fire going, and a kettle of hot water…such a tedious journey from London…I do so hate it.”

  “Aye, well I thank you kindly, Miss Cox,” Linton was heard to say as they disappeared onto the first landing. “I’ll not say no to a cup of tea, and the children could do with a wash.”

  “Now,” Harry said softly, “there seems but one more task to accomplish. You have need of attendants at your wedding. If you’ll write a note, I’ll send a carriage to Cavendish Square to bring Livia and Aurelia here.”

  “I can do that,” Cornelia said, a slight smile flickering on her lips. “But after that, I think there’s one more task to accomplish.”

  “Oh? And what is that?” Sparks of fire flickered in the green depths of his eyes as he traced the curve of her mouth with a forefinger.

  “You may need to remind me why you went to the trouble of holding me up on Wimbledon Common.” Her tongue darted, catching the tip of his finger.

  “Oh, I believe I can do that,” he promised, a half smile playing over his lips. “In fact, let me do that now, then you can write your letter.”

  “Perhaps that would be best,” she murmured. “I need to be absolutely certain, you see.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’ll be in no doubt, by the time we’re finished,” he promised. He took her hand and led her up the stairs.

  Much later Cornelia stretched languidly as she lay along the length of his body, kissing the hollow of his shoulder. “I appear to be reminded,” she murmured.

  His hand stroked down her back, coming to rest on her backside. “And absolutely certain?”

  “Oh, yes,” she affirmed, wriggling slightly so that their hips were aligned once more. “Never more certain of anything in my life.”

  She lifted her head a little to look down into his eyes. “I love you, Harry Bonham, whatever you are.”

  He took her hair between his hands and drew it back from her face. “I will be a good father to your children,” he promised.

  Cornelia smiled languidly. “How’s your Greek and Latin?”

  He laughed a little. “My love, I deal in codes. My grasp of the ancient languages is impeccable.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she murmured. “You can take on Stevie’s preparation for Harrow, and his grandfather won’t have a thing to complain about.”

  “I knew I could be useful.” He reached up and ran his hands through the buttery fall of hair. His voice was low and intense as he said, “You will never regret entrusting your children to me.”

  “No, I know that.” She kissed his eyelids. “And you will be a good father to any others who might happen along.” She reached down for him, guiding him within her. “I think I need one last little reminder, my lord.”