hand on the bed curtains ready to open them wide. She never flinched. I would not have guessed there was a naked man in her bed.” Charlotte took another sip of brandy. “Are you sure Westbrooke was there?”
“Yes, I’m sure. There was nowhere else he could be. Lord Peter followed him. He saw him go in that window.”
“Hmm.” Charlotte shook her head. “I just can’t picture Lady Elizabeth greeting a naked Lord Westbrooke. Of course, her brother always acted very proper, and you know what everyone said about him.”
“That he was a regular satyr.” Felicity’s mouth slid into a sly smile. “He seems content enough now to stay home with his wife.”
“She’s breeding again, you know.” The anxious knot twisted in Charlotte’s stomach again. She took a deep breath.
Lord Peter would solve her problem.
“I’d heard. That’s why Lady Beatrice is acting as Lady Elizabeth’s chaperone this Season—that and the fact Knightsdale’s sister-in-law has finally been dragged to Town.” Felicity picked up a miniature from an end table and studied it. “This looks like you.”
Damn. She should have put that picture in a drawer.
“It is me.”
“Do you make a habit of taking your picture with you? I would have thought your glass would suffice.”
“It’s not mine.”
She watched Felicity’s eyes widen, then quickly narrow. Charlotte bit her tongue. She should have lied.
“What do you mean, it’s not yours? How did it get here?”
She shrugged. “Our host has an odd sense of humor.”
Felicity’s nose twitched like a hound scenting a fox. “But why does he have a miniature of you?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps you should ask him.”
“Hmm.” Felicity put the picture back on the table and picked up the porcelain shepherdess standing next to it. “Perhaps you should have chosen him to come to your bed.”
“Oh, no. Lord Peter suits my purposes far better.” Lord Peter was more than a decade younger than Tynweith, and more importantly, his family was known to produce males. He should give her a son. A daughter would not do.
“Are you going to tell him what your purposes are?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Charlotte could not imagine that conversation. “Probably not. There is no need for him to know.”
“You’re going to make him think you lust after his body when all you want is his seed?”
“I don’t mean to make him think anything. Thinking is not required for the procedure.”
Felicity laughed. “No, I suppose not.”
“I am offering him some free sport—why should he complain?”
“True. And Hartford? Will you tell him?”
“Definitely not.”
“Won’t he be suspicious?”
“I don’t see why. Most babes look the same—and I can’t imagine he’ll survive the child’s infancy.” God, she hoped he didn’t. She hadn’t thought he’d live this long. “If he does, Lord Peter’s coloring is much like mine. He’ll just think his little sprig resembles mama.”
“Well, yes, but if a man doesn’t plow the field, he can’t plant a seed, can he?”
“That is not a problem.”
“You mean he still…?” Felicity’s eyes widened and her mouth twisted up in a look of disgust.
“Yes, he still does.” Every Thursday evening—except the last two Thursdays. He’d tried, but he had not been able to rise to the occasion.
Her stomach clenched. She sipped some more brandy.
If she were able to get with child during this house party, Hartford should not suspect a thing. He had been able to accomplish the deed three Thursdays ago. Her courses were not terribly regular. She could be increasing now for all she knew.
“I just thought…well a bit of younger seed may help the plant grow faster.”
Felicity grinned. “At least the planting will be more enjoyable.”
“Perhaps.” Charlotte doubted it. The act of coupling was uncomfortable, messy, and embarrassing by its very nature. How could substituting the male change that? “I do hope Lord Peter will not want to make too much of a production of the thing. You told me he wouldn’t.”
“He won’t. Peter has a reputation for being quick.” Felicity laughed. “Very quick. A good man for a tryst at a ball. He can get the job done easily while sitting out a set—or even between sets if need be.”
“Lovely.” Charlotte closed her flask regretfully. Lord Peter should be arriving soon.
Felicity examined the shepherdess in her hands. “So, how am I to get Westbrooke’s ring on my finger?”
“Perhaps you should target Lord Peter instead. He is a marquis’s son.”
“Fifth son.” Felicity shook her head. “No, I definitely want Westbrooke’s title and money.”
“Well, if he really was in Lady Elizabeth’s room, I imagine there’ll be a betrothal by breakfast.”
Felicity clenched the shepherdess. “There had better not be. Westbrooke is mine.”
“Careful!” Charlotte sat up abruptly. “Tynweith might well be a bit possessive of his trinkets.”
Felicity looked at the figurine in her hand, then put it carefully back in its place. “If he treasures the knickknacks, why put them in the guest rooms?”
“I assume he harbors the mistaken impression that his guests are civilized.”
Lizzie’s hand shook as she lit a candle. At least the events of the night had cleared her head. She no longer felt muzzy with wine.
She eyed the bed. So far, no motion or sound had come from behind the curtains. Had she imagined the evening’s odd occurrences? There was only one way to find out. She reached out to pull back the cloth.
“Eek!”
Robbie’s hand twitched aside the curtain just as her fingers touched it. He glared at her.
“Shh! You’ll get everyone back in here. And watch that candle. You don’t want to set us both aflame.”
“No.” Lizzie already felt flames burning in some very odd locations. Her breasts and her…belly. Robbie might be glaring, but he was still naked. Her sheet covered him from the waist down, but his lovely neck, arms, and chest
