The Mysterious Miss M

Devlin stood next to her and peered in the open cupboard. ‘Hmm. Well, Bart will know.’ He set the box down on the table and walked out.

Much later, the five of them sat around that rough wooden table, having finished a hastily prepared meal of bread from the nearby bakery and hard cheese. Devlin poured each of them another glass of wine, giving Linette, seated on his lap, a small sip from his own glass. The little girl puckered her lips at the taste, and he laughed.

Madeleine gazed at all of them. She pretended they were a family, without a care, sharing a simple meal and pleasant conversation. The thought made her smile.

Devlin caught her eye and winked at her. ‘I propose a toast.’ He raised his glass.

‘I want toast,’ Linette said.

‘To our new abode,’ Devlin said.

‘New ’bode,’ Linette parroted.

‘Hear, hear,’ Bart responded.

‘It is a lovely place.’ Madeleine sipped her wine and swept her gaze from corner to corner.

Devlin gave her a smile. He’d had no idea that pleasing her would make him feel mellow and strangely content. He raised his glass again while Bart sliced a piece of cheese and handed it to Sophie. Little Linette banged on the table with both hands.

The mellow feeling returned. ‘Tomorrow, ladies, we shall visit the mantua maker. Outfit you properly.’

Panic came over the shy Sophie’s face. ‘Oh, no, my lord.’

Devlin at last saw an opportunity to befriend the skittish young woman. ‘Would you not like a pretty dress or two?’

Sophie shook her head and dared to glance up at him for a moment. ‘No pretty dress. Nothing pretty. A bit of fabric will do, if it is not too dear. I do not presume to ask, my lord.’

‘Sophie, you are part of our household. You deserve decent clothing.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ She slid off her stool and cleared the dishes.

Devlin rolled his eyes and caught Bart’s disapproving look before the man followed Sophie out of the room.

‘Do not mind her, Devlin,’ Madeleine said. ‘She does not want presents, I think.’

He took a gulp of his wine. Linette relaxed against his chest, still at last.

‘She is afraid of you.’

He gave a dry laugh. ‘Indeed.’

‘It is because you are a man.’

He ran a finger through Linette’s hair, brushing it off the child’s forehead. ‘Bart is a man, I’ve noticed.’

‘True.’ She looked quizzical.

‘Well, Maddy, shall you and I visit the modiste or do you choose to be your own dressmaker, too?’

He meant to be good-tempered, but she responded with a wounded look.

‘I cannot sew.’

Lord, women were difficult.

‘It is of no consequence,’ he said, hoping to return to her good graces. ‘I’m sure we can find a skilful mantua maker. I would be pleased to see you in a pretty new dress.’

Her countenance changed, as if he had said something of great importance that had never occurred to her before. ‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’

He wished he understood. Devlin poured himself more wine and drained the entire contents of his glass. It was easier to evade the musket balls of an entire French battalion than to navigate a simple conversation with a female.

‘Linette is falling asleep. I need to make her ready for bed.’ Madeleine rose from her chair.

‘I’ll carry her.’ Devlin lifted Linette, and the little girl relaxed against him, a warm bundle more than comfortable against his shoulder.

He followed Madeleine into the bedchamber where they had set up Linette’s bed. A connecting door joined the two upstairs bedchambers. He wanted to think of Madeleine knocking softly on that door and coming to him in the night, but, after the morning’s dеb?cle, he was sure she would not do so.

Madeleine pulled out a tiny nightdress from the bureau. Linette’s meagre supply of clothing barely filled half a drawer, and Devlin vowed to ensure the child, as well as the mother, had a pretty new wardrobe.

‘Place her on the bed, please.’

He did so as gently as he could. ‘Toast,’ Linette murmured, opening her eyes momentarily.

Madeleine glanced at Devlin and smiled. How pleasant it felt. He had no idea domesticity could be so comfortable.

After she settled the child into bed and kissed the soft pink forehead, Devlin wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. ‘She’s a fine child, Maddy.’

‘She is everything to me.’ Her voice shook with emotion.

Madeleine leaned her head against Devlin’s shoulder. His strong arm felt so comfortable, she could almost imagine he belonged to her and they were gazing upon their own—

No, she must not lapse into that particular fantasy. She must remember that Devlin wished to see her in pretty dresses, just as Farley had. She must remember that she owed him for his kindness.

‘Shall I ready myself for bed as well, sir?’ She modulated her voice as she had been used to doing for these last years.

He placed her away from him and looked into her face. Madeleine knew how to control her expression. She smiled, half-demurely, half-seductively. She gently caressed his neck, leaning forward so when he glanced down, a peek of the rounded shape of her breasts was clearly visible. She led him to the connecting door, pulled him into the other room, closing the door behind her.

‘Shall I kiss you?’ she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. Not waiting for his answer, she stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his.

Yes, she could do this, she thought, keeping her body in firm control. She could indeed pleasure Devlin and repay his kindness without ever pleasuring herself.

Devlin wound his arms around her and pressed her against him. Desire flared inside him, and he deepened the kiss. She reached her hands around to loosen the already loose strings of her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving only her corset and shift. He ran his hands across her bare shoulders.

So lovely. So soft. Like honey. He wanted her. Wanted to plunge into her, join himself to her and not feel so alone.

‘Shall we go to the bed, my lord?’

The words echoed in his mind, from long ago.