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either.
    These were the memories for which she had hoped. She wanted
to know physical passion and her encounter had provided it on a grand scale.
    Mostly she relived those early-morning moments when he was
over her, slowly arousing her as if he cared about her every response. She’d
experienced more than physical satisfaction—each touch had been an unexpected
balm for her soul.
    When she wasn’t trying to imagine who he was, she was
reliving the vivid sensation of his thorough kisses. But nothing compared to
the delight of having her body penetrated by his impressive cock. Each night as
she’d drifted off to sleep, she could practically feel his thrusts. Her body
wasn’t her own and responded to her imagination, fertile as it now was.
    Of course, she did not have the kind of time she wished to
dwell on such fond and treasured memories. The whole house was in an uproar as
she and her son planned to leave London for the rest of the year, not returning
until after Christmas and hopefully, not until the season started once again.
    The country was better for a young boy. Vincent needed more
practice riding, hunting and managing his estates. Lucy thought it best that
Mr. Darrow, who managed all of the Wallingford estates on behalf of the young
duke, teach Vincent all of the nuances that went with such a large
responsibility, with Lucy’s direction. Better to begin young and perfect his
skills than to stumble through and make her son’s life difficult later on.
    Mr. Darrow strode by carrying several ledgers. “Your Grace,
perhaps another carriage might be needed after all.”
    “Nonsense, if we cannot travel two days with all that we
need in three carriages, then I think I should consider whether we
mightn’t be better off leaving some of these trunks behind. Or bodies.”
    “Oh no, Your Grace. I am sure that we will manage.”
    “Good, because I don’t think it unreasonable that a boy with
an inclination toward mathematics is too young to begin learning how his
estates are run. Bring all the ledgers.”
    “As you wish.” He bowed and returned in the direction from
whence he had come.
    Lucy stepped from the library.
    “Your Grace, His Grace is throwing a bit of a tantrum this
morning, insisting that you said he was not required to wear a cravat for the
journey.”
    Lucy sighed. Could she not just get back to her room instead
of being waylaid by every servant in the household? She did not need Vincent’s
childish fit this morning. Not when she had planned to be well on their way by
eleven.
    “Mr. Allen, please inform His Grace that I shall be along
directly to swat his bottom if I hear that he is inciting one more disruption
this morning. Better yet, why do you not discipline him? He needs instruction.”
    “I am his valet, Your Grace. It would be best coming from
you.”
    “Please resolve the matter, Mr. Allen, I am about to
perpetuate some great crime upon the next person who claims to have a problem.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered Mr. Rhodes, the
house steward. “Your Grace, one more thing.”
    “Yes, Rhodes?”
    “I believe we shall include both—”
    She held up her hand. “Rhodes? How long have you been the
steward in this household? Has it been ten years?”
    “Not quite, Your Grace.”
    “Whatever it is, I trust you to take care of it.”
    She was most fortunate to have such reliable help. Thomas
had never given them or any of the house servants credit for their dedication
and hard work. When Thomas had died, she’d met with each of them and provided a
lavish bonus based on that commitment. Instead of dismissing Mr. Allen, who’d
endured years of Thomas’ chicanery, she had asked him to stay on as Vincent’s
valet rather than keep a fussing governess.
    Compared to Thomas, they were saints—all impeccable and
flawless. Why couldn’t a duke be brought up to have such fine manners and mean
them? Instead of possessing a polished veneer, they were genuine to the core.
    They almost