A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Just a few miles more.” Toby peered at the carriage window, watching the familiar landscape roll past. He turned his attention to his obviously uncomfortable wife, whose clear, honeycolored complexion was tinged with green. “You’re miserable, aren’t you? Too much jouncing about?”

“I’m enjoying the lovely countryside. But I must admit, I’m not accustomed to lengthy carriage rides.” Again, she twisted her hips to find a slightly different position on the tufted seat. He winced. She must be sore. No, she was not accustomed to lengthy carriage rides, nor to lengthy nights of being ridden like a carriage horse. Not for the first time since their wedding, he felt a stab of guilt. He knew he’d been using his wife as if he were a sailor on shore leave—

but damned if he could help it. He wanted her, all the time. And she obliged him, whenever he asked.

Even now, the sight of those luscious br**sts bouncing in time to the horses’ clopping hooves

…

He said casually, “Perhaps you’d feel the ruts less if you came over here and sat in my lap.”

She gave him that typically Isabel look—serious and searching. He could practically see the thoughts turning over in her mind. Could her husband possibly be so wicked, she was wondering, as to suggest what her recently expanded imagination supposed?

No, she decided mutely—and incorrectly—with a little shake of her head. “It is kind of you to offer, I’m sure. But I would not wish to wrinkle you.”

Just like her, to give him far more credit than his due. If Toby had his way, her light-blue traveling habit would meet with a fate far worse than wrinkling. She had so much misplaced faith in him—he only hoped a shred of it might survive his electoral defeat.

“Will it be a large crowd, there at the hustings?” she asked.

“Oh, undoubtedly. Hundreds, most likely.”

“But I understood the number of electors to be rather small. Only those freemen who hold land, your mother told me.”

“Yes, but it’s rather a holiday, you see. It’s the spectacle that draws people from miles around, whether or not they can cast a vote. Little enough excitement to be had in a sleepy borough like ours. Any excuse for a day spent gawking and lifting pints of ale will serve. And this is just the announcement of candidacy—wait until the polling begins in earnest. That’s when the real debauchery starts.”

“And how long will the polling last?”

“Until there is a clear winner—as many as fifteen days, not counting Sundays.” It wasn’t likely to last five, Toby thought to himself. By all reasoning, Yorke ought to take a commanding lead from the first and end the thing swiftly.

“As many as fifteen days of drunken debauchery?” Isabel’s eyebrows rose. “No wonder people anticipate an election.”

“It could be worse. Ours is a sedate little corner of England. We could be in one of those counties up north, where the polling always ends in riots. Or worse,” he added, jerking his head toward the window, “just a ways back, in Garret.”

“What takes place in Garret?”

“Oh, they have a sort of sham election, every Parliament. People from all around come to see it

—outlandish costumes, coarse humor, barrels and barrels of ale. You see, a man needn’t be a landowner to vote there.”

“No?”

“No.” He gave her a teasing grin. “There is only one qualification to vote in Garret. A man must have enjoyed a woman in the open air, somewhere within that district.”

The green cast of her complexion turned to pink. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all.” Unable to resist, Toby rose from his seat opposite and crossed the gap, settling down next to her. “In fact,” he continued, leaning into her and directing her gaze out the window, “I believe we may still be traveling through that district now. You did remark on the lovely countryside. And I think a breath of open air may be just the remedy you need. Shall we venture out and find an obliging little haystack or hillock to enjoy, hm?”

She blushed deeper. “You are an outrageous tease.”

“I’m not teasing at all. I’d have a far better chance of winning in Garret than in my own borough. There’s just that small matter of eligibility.” He snaked an arm behind her waist and cupped her lush, rounded hip in his palm. With his other hand, he reached for his walking stick. “I’ll halt the carriage right now, if you like.” He stretched his arm, extending the knob of ivory toward the coach’s side, as though he would rap to signal the driver.

“You wouldn’t!” Twisting her body, she stretched out a hand to stay his arm.

“Oh, yes, I would,” he said, reaching out again.

“Toby!” she exclaimed, wrestling his arm with both hands now and wriggling herself straight into his lap. Just where he’d been wanting her.

He said quietly, “I would.” Then he paused, waiting for that beautiful face to turn toward his. “I would, but only if you asked it.”