Page 26 of The Widower Without a Will
By night, he freed her body from its clothes and explored every inch of her bare skin with his.
It was wicked, it was wrong, it was everything he would caution a sensible person against—and he was as addicted to it as a drunk to his gin.
It was not just her body that Martin wanted to consume.He wanted to know every inch of Mrs.Bellamy’s soul.What her parents had been like, how many siblings she had grown up with, what she loved best to eat, what rules she had broken as a youth.He wanted to ask how she had met her late husband and how deeply they had loved each other; he wanted to know if her husband had made her buckle in pleasure the way Martin did and if her husband had also discovered the secret spot on the back of her knee that could make her moan with desire.
He restrained himself from asking such questions.This was a friendship, not a love affair.They both knew it would end when Mrs.Bellamy’s niece wrote to invite her to stay.
Martin felt it would be easier for both of them if he kept his curiosity at bay.
As the autumn harvests finished, Martin arranged a visit to the property east of Northfield.The grim nabob who had held onto the property these past fifteen years had died, and the new owner, his nephew, was eager to lease it for someone else to take on its fallow fields.If Martin brought it under Northfield’s care, he would add two hundred acres, access to more of the river, and a rocky portion which could potentially sustain construction for lodging houses and cottages.
By this point, it was self-evident that Mrs.Bellamy would accompany him—and not only because of how intensely Martin missed her if he spent more than an hour or two away from her side.In the month that she had been at Northfield Hall, she had proven herself to be the steady head who listened to facts and figures while Martin’s worries swept him away from reality.
She wasn’t quite a replacement for Maulvi—who knew every inch of the soil, every person’s name, and every crack in the façade of Northfield Hall—but she was picking up some role Martin had never realized was vacant.Perhaps all secretaries did more than copy out correspondence.
Perhaps Mrs.Bellamy was special.
They rode in the coach-and-four to meet with the estate agent.He was a local man whom Martin had encountered now and again on various Thatcham business, and as he took them around the property, he emphasized all the ways it could help the project of Northfield Hall.“These fields would do well with peas and beans, if I may say so, sir,” and, “You can see this is a prime pasture for another flock or two of sheep.”
“It will take a year or two to restore these fields, will it not?”asked Mrs.Bellamy at one point as the agent waxed on about the fertility of the land.
The man reluctantly admitted it was so.
“And there are no houses at the ready for the farmers who will need to do the work.”
To this the agent did not agree as easily, since he had shown them a set of dilapidated sheds that had supposedly once housed tenant farmers.
She said with just enough guile for Martin to detect that she was playing the role of an ignorant old woman, “When rectories change hands, we widows must lay out some of our own money to pay for the new tenants’ repairs.Is there no such arrangement between a landlord and his long-term lessee?”
The agent humored her with a condescending reply.“These matters are more complicated as the property size increases.”
Martin resisted the urge to draw Mrs.Bellamy into the protection of his arm.“The specifics will be complicated by the solicitors, no doubt, but the principle remains.I wonder what accommodations Mr.Lyne can offer, either in terms of a discounted rate in the first years or a stipend for improvements, to make the lease a better investment for me.”
“I’m sure Mr.Lyne is willing to consider such a thing, so long as he is earning a fair value from the property.”
In the carriage on their way home, Martin reviewed the negotiation with Mrs.Bellamy.“You are most astute, my dear secretary.”
“I’m sure you already had some kind of discounted lease in mind,” she said humbly.
The truth was that it hadn’t occurred to Martin.He had taken the offer at face value: either he could sign the hundred-year lease at two thousand pounds per year, or he could decide that was too rich and let someone else move in as his neighbor.He had even gone so far as to wonder if he could convince an ally to lease the property and work out a barter system with Northfield to supplement their yields.
If he had property available to lease, he would price it at what it was worth, not at what he wanted to earn from it.But, of course, Mr.Lyne was a worldly man, not necessarily a fair one, and Martin had to remember that every point of the agreement could be negotiated.
“Do you think it is worth the investment?”he asked Mrs.Bellamy, eager for her honest opinion.Though they were alone in the carriage, he resisted the urge to reach for her hand.During the day, she was his secretary; it was only at night that he allowed himself to trespass the lines of respectability.
“It answers many of your prayers, most especially for space to build more lodging.”
“For a substantial cost.”
Mrs.Bellamy arched an eyebrow.“I can think of only one solution that would come at no cost, sir, and that is to declare you have reached the limit of the number of people Northfield can sustain and that no others will be admitted.”
Martin hated to admit that the idea had occurred to him—even though he had dismissed it immediately.“The cost of that on my soul would greatly outweigh the financial savings.”
The smile this reply earned him made Martin want to steal a kiss from her.He would save it for later, for when they were man and woman instead of lord and secretary.
But Mrs.Bellamy seemed to make no such distinction.Lifting the skirts of her traveling costume, she crossed the carriage to sit beside him.His body reacted instinctively; his skin heated, his lips tingled, and his cock began to stir.“You don’t give yourself enough credit that you will naturally find your way to the right solution.”
Martin fought to keep his mind attached to reason.“Only because I know how gravely I have failed in the past.”
