Page 72 of The Colonel's Ungovernable Governess
Another groan of desire escaped, but he did not immediately reach for her. There was something elemental and generous about her action. She was not only presenting him her body, but the true gift of her heart. He was humbled by her gesture, as well as sporting as hard of an arousal as he had ever known.
The moonlight streamed through the large windows. Her breathing grew labored—the inhale and exhale loud, even to his ears. They stood, staring at each other for an elongated moment. Somehow, her eyes had gathered up both the starlight and the candlelight of the two tapers left burning. Bits of fire flickered as her eyes opened wider. Streams of silver moonlight melted over the swell of her breasts and crept downward, stopping short of her thighs.
“Edward?” she asked in questioning tones, and he realized she probably thought he disapproved of her actions. Her tone jolted him from his apparent self-imposed trance. It only took a moment for him to dispense with the rest of his clothing. Then, he reached for her, scooping her up in his arms, to deposit her on the bed, where he followed her down. Nothing mattered but the fact they were finally to be joined. To sate a need in each of them—one as old as time itself. A moment of oneness.
“I swear, Jocelyn, I will love none but you, for you are the noblest and dearest person God ever placed in my path.”
* * *
That was the first night of many to follow. They spent some thirteen years at Babbington, serving, first, as Vincent’s guardians, and, then, as his advisors, before being called back to Lincolnshire, where they had first met.
Though he did not pull the trigger himself, Philip Jennings was hanged for attempting to murder an earl, and the man’s family, as well as that of Lady Marksham, was deported to a penal colony. The gossip was intense, and, therefore, Edward and Jocelyn had chosen to keep Vincent out of school a bit longer to permit the tales to die down.
Fortunately, for the boy, during their time at Babbington, Vincent and Andrew became ready friends. Her dear husband said they reminded him of his and Darcy’s relationship. Andrew protected Vincent and led the young earl through each social evening they encountered, and Vincent stood at the ready to assist Andrew in finding her brother’s own happily ever after, with, of all people, Lady Victoria Jennings. Vincent imagined himself as playing at “cupid” between the two.
Over those thirteen years, Elizabeth Darcy delivered her husband five healthy children in total. The pair had followed through on their plans, and their part of Derbyshire had become a thriving area, offering employment, modernization, and growth.
Although she and Edward had implemented many of the same innovations and improvements, their Yorkshire neighbors picked and chose what they would accept without destroying their “character.” The Darcys said it was because Darcy’s family had been in Derbyshire for two hundred years, while those in Yorkshire were often thought of as simply “stubborn.” Perhaps Vincent had come by the characteristic naturally. The boy had come, over the years, to repeat often, “You can always tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell him much.”
When his brother Roland Fitzwilliam finally passed, she and Edward assumed their roles at William’s Wood. It was often comical when someone referred to them as Lord and Lady Lindale, and they forgot to respond. Her husband was five and forty, and she was four and thirty when they transitioned to being a viscount and viscountess. They were no longer young aristocrats. Their eldest son Martin Joseph Roland Fitzwilliam, named after Lord Matlock and her father was nearly twelve at the time.
Lady Lindale moved to a smaller estate purchased specifically for the lady a few years before Lindale lost his final battle. Lord Lindale had kept his promise to the woman and she to him. Roland Fitzwilliam had seen Lady Annabelle married to a baronet from Staffordshire and Lady Victoria married to Jocelyn’s brother. They all privately thought it ironic that Annabelle would be part of the gentry, rather than part of the aristocracy, though none of them spoke openly of her place in society. Mr. Darcy and her sweet Edward considered the similarities between Annabelle and their aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was also an earl’s daughter, but had married down, supposedly for love. The two men made a bet that Annabelle would be a bigger terror than their aunt, who still intimidated Jocelyn on a regular basis. Only Elizabeth Darcy appeared to ignore the woman’s protestations.
Their Martin was nearly seventeen when Major General Edward Fitzwilliam, Lord Lindale, became the 17th Earl of Matlock, with his father’s passing. “I had hoped never to know this day,” Edward admitted as they dressed for the memorial service to be held in honor of his father.
“You have nothing to fear,” she told him as she straightened the lapels of his mourning coat. “You are well prepared for this new identity. Every step we have taken over the last eighteen years was meant to fulfill your legacy.”
As was customary with him, her husband shrugged his response. She knew he worried if he was worthy of the earldom, but, in Jocelyn’s private opinion, her husband was the reason the earldom had not suffered during his father’s long illness.
“Are the children prepared?” he asked, though she knew they would be.
“I am leaving Susan here. I did not think it wise for her to consider her Grandfather Mat no longer about to give her rides in his carriage or sneak her a piece of candy when we specifically said she could not have more sweets. She is but five and will not understand, but the others are waiting below.”
He held the door for her so she might proceed him, but when they reached the foyer, his features soften when he saw five of their six children, dressed in black, staring up at him. Behind them stood Lord Vincent Jennings, the Earl of Babcock, all of them awaiting Edward’s inspection.
“Are you well, Papa?” Tessa, their eight-year-old, asked. The child followed her father around as if she were his shadow. She adored him, and he adored her.
“I am now, pumpkin,” her husband said with a small smile.
Edward caught Vincent up in a very masculine hug. “It is good of you to come, boy,” he said, sounding very much like his late father.
“I am glad to be here, sir, but I fear I cannot stay for long. Lady Alicia is close to her next lying in, and I must be there for her. I pray you will forgive me,” Vincent said, and Jocelyn’s eyes filled with tears, for Lord Vincent was their “first child,” and he was so grown up now.
“Naturally, your duty is to your wife. Once the new child arrives and this time of mourning for the Fitzwilliams is complete, please say you and Alicia and your family will come to Maitland Manor for a longer stay. Perhaps at Christmastide.”
“We would like that, sir. I thought I might take Tessa and Susan up with me,” Vincent said. “I told Tessa I would share tales of their grandfather and their parents the others have tired of hearing me repeat.” Vincent smiled that special smile that had always melted Jocelyn’s heart.
“You may take Tessa, but I am leaving Susan here. Would you like that, Tessa?” Jocelyn asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” the child said with glee.
“Then go along with Lord Babcock. Your father and I will follow closely.”
“The family carriages are outside, Father,” Martin announced with authority. “I will ride with Grandmama in the smaller.”
“I am appreciative of your care of the dowager countess,” Jocelyn assured her eldest.
“I will ride with our grandmother and Martin,” their fifteen-year-old, Louisa said. “I will keep Martin from being so domineering. He tormented Rowan while we waited for you, until Lord Babcock shushed him.”
