Page 68 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

“Brandon?” A sleepy voice came from the bed.

He spun around, his breeches in his hand. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you leaving me?”

He laughed and came over to sit beside her. “I was planning to let you sleep for a while.”

She sat up, and the sheet fell away, giving him a delightful view of her beautiful, full breasts, the pert brown nipples begging to be kissed. His body hardened at the sight.

She patted the mattress beside her. “Come back to bed.”

He sighed as he took in the sensual picture his wife made, her tousled hair and her lips plump from his kisses. “If I do, we’ll make love again, Letty. You may not welcome it; your body will be sore.”

She rewarded him with a temptress’ smile. “Allow me to be the judge of that!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brandon guided the chaise through a pair of tall gates. “Welcome to Fernborough Park, my boyhood home.”

She could visualize him here as a young lad, climbing trees and tossing a ball to a dog.

The horses trotted down a long avenue of trees to an imposing brick mansion built in the style of the last century. Suddenly nervous, Letty drew in a breath as she looked about. Somehow, she had not expected him to come from such an impressive family. He was undoubtedly the son of a gentleman, attending Harrow and Oxford, but he’d never led her to believe his father was a wealthy man, although her uncle had mentioned Sir Richard Cartwright’s parliamentary career in revered tones.

As the chaise approached the house, doubts assailed her. What if they disapproved of his marriage? While no one could criticize her family, of which she was proud, her upbringing had been that of a country girl, and not a society miss who attended finishing school and learned to become an accomplished lady. Letty did not excel at the pianoforte, having been indifferent to it, and although she’d been told her voice was sweet, it was not exceptional, and hardly a rival to Miss Willard’s soprano. The thought of performing for a room full of guests terrified her. While she quite liked to sew, she had a hearty dislike for embroidery, drawing, and painting. She preferred to be outdoors, riding, tending the horses, picking vegetables for Cook, and feeding the chickens. Those things that country girls did, which young, well-brought up ladies might wonder at and never indulge in.

The mansion loomed before them. “Does your father keep riding hacks?” she asked in a strained voice trying to quell her fears.

He glanced at her with an amused smile. “There’s a good stable. Shall we ride this afternoon?”

“I should like that.” She would be glad to escape the house for a while. “The woods are beautiful, and countryside different to Cumbria.”

“Sadly, the best of the bluebells have gone. I should’ve enjoyed making love to you amongst them, Mrs. Cartwright.”

She quite believed he would. Her husband had proven to be an unpredictable and passionate lover. Letty blushed as she conjured up an image of their morning in bed. She hushed him as if those in the house could hear them.

Brandon turned to laugh at her. He pulled up the horses before the soaring front of the house as a groom rushed from the stables. Tossing the reins to him, Brandon lifted her down.

He took her hand, and they climbed the porch to the front door which had been opened by a formidable looking butler in black. The butler’s craggy face broke into a smile. “Mr. Brandon, how good to see you, sir.”

“Letty, this is Barnstable.” Brandon laid his hat and gloves on the hall table. “Barnstable, I should like to introduce my bride, Mrs. Letitia Cartwright.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Cartwright,” the butler said. “We have been looking forward to meeting you.” He took Letty’s coat and bonnet. “You will find Sir Richard in the library, Mr. Brandon, and Lady Cartwright, I believe, is in the conservatory. Shall I send afternoon tea to the blue salon?”

“Thank you. Ask Cook for some of those Chelsea buns I like.”

“Mrs. Fry set about making them as soon as she heard you were coming, sir.”

The hall was two stories high, a huge echoing space with a marble tiled floor and a marble staircase sweeping up to the upper stories. It took Letty back to visits to Bromley Hall when she was a child. Brandon took her arm and walked with her down a lengthy corridor.

After passing through an elegant reception room, they emerged into a glass-walled conservatory filled with greenery. The air was dense with the scents of flowers, foliage, and earthy smells. A lady, her dark hair streaked with white, turned from where she was potting a flowering plant. “Brandon!” She stripped off her gloves and rushed over to embrace him. She kissed his cheek, then turned with a smile to greet Letty. “I beg your pardon, I have not seen my son for some time.”

“Mama, this is Letty,” Brandon said.

“How do you do, my dear!” She enveloped Letty in a scented hug. “I have been looking forward to meeting my son’s bride.”

“It is so good to meet you, Lady Cartwright,” Letty said. “You have a splendid variety of orchids.”

“Yes, I am fond of the flower.” Lady Cartwright smiled. “You must call me Mama, dear child. I am your mama-in-law, after all. Let us go and find your father, Brandon, he has finally settled in the library. He has been pacing about all morning waiting for your arrival!”

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