That intensity swelled to a crescendo. The most incredible pleasure she had ever known blasted through her, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.
‘It’s happening!’ she cried, in shock, clinging to his shoulders as she flew apart.
‘Oh, yes,’ he groaned. ‘Yes, it is…’
Time stood still as everything shook and pulsed and throbbed.
And then they floated gently back down to earth, like the sparks after a rocket has exploded.
Together.
As the carriage swept through the park gates and Midge got her first glimpse of Shevington Court, her stomach tied itself into a knot. Not for the first time that day, she was glad Monty had elected to ride beside the carriage. For she would have felt obliged to find something positive to say about the imposing set of stone buildings sitting on top of a rise, dominating the entire landscape. The closer they drew, and the larger she realized the place was, the greater grew her sense of inadequacy. She had never even attended a house party in a home so grand. Now she was expected to live here!
By the time the carriage drew to a halt beneath the port cochère Monty had already dismounted, and it was he who came to hand her out. He did not, as a footman would have done, merely extend his arm for support, but took hold of her waist and bodily lifted her to the ground.
His hands seemed to burn through the material of her coat as she recalled, with a flush, how they had felt on her bare skin the night before. But as he set about deftly straightening her skewed bonnet she began to feel annoyed. How could he remain so calm, so unmoved by their proximity, when she was in a breathless state of arousal! It was galling to think that if he decided to kiss her, she would simply collapse backwards into the carriage, dragging him in after her, and never mind what the servants might think as she slammed the door in their faces. But of course, he did no such thing. Once he had assured himself that she was tidy, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up the flight of shallow stone steps to the front door.
She had to cling to his arm for support, so weak were her knees by this time. The man was a menace to female kind!
‘It’s not what you would call a comfortable home,’ he startled her by saying. ‘Draughty barracks of a place, positioned as it is on top of a hill. My grandfather built it for show, more than convenience, I think. Good training for me, though,’ he finished enigmatically, turning to eye the ranks of windows.
‘Training?’ she asked.
‘Oh.’ He seemed to snap back to her from far away. ‘For school. Army barracks. Bivouacking in the Pyrenees…’ His voice trailed away as the immense double doors swung open as if by magic and a stately butler materialized from the shadowy interior. ‘Good day, Francis.’ He nodded, then murmured into her ear, ‘Indeed, you may find that the wearing of extra petticoats may prove beneficial. I shall have to inspect the efficacy of your underwear thoroughly, every day, I should think, to make sure you don’t catch cold…’
The thought of him inspecting her underwear made her go hot all over. And so she entered the imposing main hall of Shevington scarlet-cheeked, thoroughly flustered and rather aggravated with him for not only having put her in such a state, but also for remaining completely unmoved as he did so.
A veritable army of staff, in smart black-and-gold livery, were all lined up in the hall to greet them.
She was momentarily grateful that Monty had lifted her out of the carriage and made sure she would pass muster. She would not have liked to run the gauntlet of all those curious eyes with a trailing hem or her bonnet askew.
But that brief spasm of gratitude soon passed. For rather than making any attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he stalked along at her side, his hands clasped behind his back, his face unsmiling as the housekeeper went through the roll call of names.
He looked, in fact, exactly like a stern major, inspecting the troops. She would not have been a bit surprised if he had straightened a footman’s powdered wig or snapped at the lowly boot boy to shine up his rather tarnished buttons.
But at last, parade was over and the troops dismissed. And the housekeeper, Mrs Wadsworth, gestured towards the grand sweep of the staircase.
‘Your rooms are on the west corridor,’ she announced, leading the way.
‘You will never get lost,’ Monty murmured in her ear as they followed her, side by side. Then he held out his hands, spreading his fingers in an elongated rectangle. ‘South front, east wing, west wing.’
‘His lordship,’ said Mrs Wadsworth, flinging open a set of double doors about halfway along the corridor, ‘thought you would wish to have this set of apartments.’
‘Did he, by God,’ Monty murmured to Midge, out of the corner of his mouth, ‘you are honoured. Last time I was here, I only merited one of the guest rooms.’
‘Her Ladyship’s sitting room.’ The housekeeper waved her arm round the room they had entered. It was a perfect square, and very green, was Midge’s first impression. Pale green walls, dark green curtains and various shades of green upholstery on all the furniture. Then her eyes took in the ornately plastered ceiling, with generously proportioned picture rails below. And the almost paper-thin, floral porcelain ware that decorated every available surface. And the very expensive-looking carpet in the middle of the highly polished floor. And the low table positioned before the fireplace, with an immense vase, from the same source as the rest of the china, squatting on top.
It might have looked less hideous if somebody had thought to fill it with fresh flowers, but she supposed there were not many large enough, at this time of year, to do it justice.
‘Viscount Mildenhall’s chamber is through that door, and yours through this one,’ Mrs Wadsworth explained, pointing to two doors on opposite sides of the green room.
‘His Lordship will be along shortly to meet you and welcome you to your new home,’ Mrs Wadsworth said to Midge. ‘I shall have the tea things brought up.’
Midge’s anxiety level soared to new heights. She had no wish to drag the poor old earl out of his sick bed. She turned to ask Monty if he thought it might be better if they were to go to him, only to see him stalking through the door that led to his own room. She could hear him muttering to his valet, flinging open doors and slamming drawers. He was clearly not in the best of moods, for some reason. And she did not know him well enough to know how to deal with him yet.
Not quite daring to tread on the luxurious carpeting, Midge kept to the bare boards round the edge as she made her way to the door that led to her own room.
She peeped in to see a footman depositing a trunk at the foot of the bed.
‘Not there you great lummox,’ Pansy was saying scathingly. ‘Over there, by the cupboards!’
Midge’s lips twitched at the sight of the brawny footman meekly doing the diminutive Pansy’s bidding, and she backed away to the relative peace of the fussily feminine sitting room.
The door to Monty’s room was now closed. Well, that answered the question of whether to go and talk to him or not!
Feeling rather at a loose end, Midge sidled along to a window and gasped with pleasure. She could see a river winding artistically down to a lake that filled the bottom of a thickly wooded valley. And, if she pressed her nose to the windowpane, the corner of a building that looked very much like stables. She hoped there would be a decent mount for her. Her spirits lifted as she regarded the short turf sweeping round the lake and a track leading into the woodland. Oh, how she would enjoy being able to go for a really good gallop again!
Somewhere, at the bottom of one of her trunks, she’d had Pansy pack the disreputable old riding habit she had brought with her from Staffordshire. She had ensured it survived every single one of her aunt’s culls of her wardrobe, and now she could hardly wait to don it again!
She was just wondering if it was safe to enter her room yet, to get