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  With the cook’s words, a number of people began talking at once and Mr. Ridley turned to Georgina. “Perhaps we should leave.”

  “I don’t think I can. We really need to solve this mystery. I don’t like the fact that Deborah is missing. She’s only nine years old.”

  Mr. Ridley continued to hold her hand and the warmth of his large one encompassing her fingers soothed and relaxed Georgina a little. Nevertheless she pulled her palm from his and clapped her hands together sharply, taking once again without thought the role that had been hers for three years.

  “Cook. Send the potboy to the market for more potatoes. Harry, go to the stables and check to see if anyone other than young Peter is missing. Or if mayhap a horse has gone too.”

  More gently she said, “Mr. Gordon, no one is blaming you. We are well aware the twins are a—handful.”

  “Hell-born babes,” came a softly muttered amendment from the crowd. which she ignored.

  “Where’s Amos?” she asked Sapphira.

  “He and some of his particular friends have gone to a boxing match out on the Downs. He said he’d be back in plenty of time for dinner tonight,” Sapphira replied.

  Simeon gave a crack of laughter. “I’ll wager that’s where the twins are then.” He slapped a hand to Mr. Ridley’s shoulder. “Come on, Ridley, let’s go fetch them back.”

  “Deborah? At a boxing match?” The Dowager’s voice rose almost to a shriek.

  “I would not be surprised. Come and sit down, Grandmama. Sapphira, have some tea sent in to us, please.”

  ****

  Deborah had dressed with great care in Joel’s outgrown breeches, shirt, and vest, tying her hair tightly on the top of her head and forcing it under one of Micah’s caps.

  Everyone called them “the twins” considering them identical, but she knew Micah’s head was larger than Joel’s, leaving more room for her hair to be hidden inside a cap, and Joel was a fraction thinner and shorter, making his breeches a closer fit to her size. Although she’d had to roll the cuff of the pants up inside her boots, but she’d muddied her boots to make them look less new and pretty, more masculine. Their feet were much larger than hers, and even stuffing the toes of their boots with paper wouldn’t be enough to let her to walk in them, so she’d had to wear her own.

  And then, after she’d gone to so much trouble, they’d cruelly told her she couldn’t come. Well she’d show them. She was here and without any help from them at all. She’d done it all by herself. Thought up her own plan and carried it out independent of them.

  Deborah stood behind the cart, rubbing her hip, which she knew would have a huge bruise on it very soon. She’d had to use the old sacks to cover herself with instead of to pad the wooden tray she was lying on. But it didn’t matter. She was here. At a boxing match.

  The boys could cook and sell the potatoes they’d taken from the pantry. Peter said they’d make a lot of money selling hot potatoes on a cold day to rich people. But since they’d spurned her, she wasn’t going to help them. No, not at all.

  Deborah’s stomach rumbled. She’d missed breakfast as it took her a lot longer to get dressed than she’d expected. Well maybe I’ll help them a tiny bit. Just enough to eat one or two potatoes. Hot potatoes would be nice. Deborah was cold without a pelisse or shawl to hug around herself over the shirt.

  Carefully she peeked around the back of the cart. She’d waited under the sacks for a long time to make sure they weren’t coming back for something else, but surely they’d be busy cooking the potatoes by now.

  Her stomach rumbled again and that decided her. I’ll find them and break my fast on a few potatoes then help sell them. She wasn’t sure how one cooked potatoes without a pot, but Peter seemed to know all these things.

  Deborah strode toward the crowds with the most boy-like swagger she could manage, eagerly looking around her at all the people. There certainly were a lot of men here and not very many ladies. Deborah looked at a pair of females with a group of young men. They didn’t look like ladies or even like the shop girls in the stores Georgina and Sapphira took her to sometimes. I expect they’re tradesmen’s daughters, she told herself stoutly, unable to prevent herself walking a little faster to pass the group.

  The field was huge and there must have been several hundred people here, Deborah guessed as she swaggered through the crowd, looking for Peter, Joel, and Micah. Her nose finally led her to an area where men were selling roasted chestnuts and Deborah caught a glimpse of the big bundle of firewood the boys had brought on the wagon. But there was no sign of hot potatoes and she was so hungry.

  Two young men started kicking over Joel and Micah’s fire and an old man was laughing at a handful of scorched potatoes. “Ye call that a Murphy?” he sneered.

  Joel, Micah, and Peter launched themselves at the young men, kicking, punching, screaming at them. Peter hung onto one man’s neck, riding his back like a monkey, his boots flailing at the man’s sides. The twins kicked the shins of the other man, trying to push him away from their fire.

  Without stopping to think, Deborah ran to their aid. “Don’t you insult my brothers!” she yelled to the old man, slamming her boot into his ankle with all the force she could muster.

  All around her men started yelling and fighting, some laying wagers on her brothers, others throwing punches of their own. Deborah got a good grip on the old man’s belt and kicked his legs again and again until he dug his hands into her head and pulled her off him by the hair.

  Her cap fell off, a clump of hair was ripped out of her scalp, her sight was blinded with tears, but Deborah swung back into the fray ready to pay him back when she realized Amos was beside her, had raised his fist, and planted the man a facer.

  Amos pulled Deborah to him and glared at her fiercely. “Stand right there and do not move!” he ordered.

  Shocked at the look on the face of her easygoing, usually laughing brother, her head aching fiercely and tears still dripping down her cheeks from the pain, Deborah obeyed.

  Amos waded back into the melee, emerging a few minutes later holding each boy by an ear. And not gently judging by the grimaces on their faces and the loud protestations they were making.

  At that very moment, Simeon and Mr. Ridley arrived. “Watch these brats. Don’t move,” Amos said, disappearing into the crowd and reappearing in seconds with a bedraggled Peter, blood pouring from the boy’s nose.

  Mr. Ridley kneeled down and held his handkerchief up to Peter’s face, tilting the boy’s head back as he applied pressure on the nose.

  “Drew me cork,” muttered Peter thickly.

  “I noticed. Keep your mouth open so you can breathe,” advised Mr. Ridley.

  “This might be a good time for us to leave,” suggested Simeon.

  “Hey, what about our potatoes?”

  “Potatoes?” asked Amos.

  “Ahh, the potatoes,” smiled Mr. Ridley.

  The men herded the children back away from the crowd, then Simeon said, “How dare you boys bring your little sister here. It’s bad enough you came yourself to a place you should never be, but to bring Deborah—”

  Plucking up her courage, Deborah said, “They didn’t bring me. I helped them plan and do everything and then they said I couldn’t come. But I did come. Without them even knowing.”

  “I don’t think this is an appropriate time and place for an inquisition. Shall we go home?” suggested Mr. Ridley quietly.

  “You’re right.” Turning to the boys he asked, “How did you get here?”

  “We drove the wagon.”

  “That’s right. We left before finding out if any of the horses were missing. And you, Deborah?”

  “I hid on the wagon, under the sacks.”

  “You couldn’t have. We had the potatoes and firewood—”

  “I did so to. You never even looked up against the front boards. I—”

  “Silence!” roared Simeon.

  “I rode. If you wait with the children by the wagon, I’ll go and fetch
Thistle,” said Amos.

  “We also rode. Simeon, you stay and I’ll retrieve our horses,” added Mr. Ridley, hurrying away after Amos.

  Simeon stood in front of the children, hands on his hips. He looked so tall and fierce. Deborah had never seen him so angry before. Not even when the twins had rode Dragon.

  “Now, without any roundaboutation, please. Micah, why are you here?”

  Deborah thought this was mayhap one time when Micah would have preferred not to be the older twin, but she watched her brother, one eye swollen half-closed, stand tall to reply. “Well, sir, when we heard about the boxing match we wanted to come, but we thought it would be rather boring, all the standing around waiting for it to start.”

  Peter had taken Mr. Ridley’s handkerchief off his face. His nose had stopped bleeding but it was very swollen. His mama would not be happy with him, Deborah thought.

  Micah was speaking again. “Then we realized everyone else there would be cold too, and mayhap hungry and thirsty. Peter said people sold roasted chestnuts and ale and even meat pies sometimes. We remembered the hot potatoes at the fair last Michelmas and thought if we cooked and sold hot potatoes, it would serve the dual purpose of earning us some money and also filling in the time. It would be to everyone’s advantage.”

  “And?” asked Simeon.

  “I don’t think we’re very good cooks,” finished Micah.

  “I told you to take a pot to boil them,” added Deborah.

  “Actually you cook them in the coals of the fire after it has died down,” said Simeon.

  Deborah thought he was almost grinning, but his voice was so stern mayhap she was wrong.

  “You three will not leave the Kingsdene property again until it’s time to go to school. Georgina and I are looking for a school for you, too, Deborah. Your minds obviously need more occupation than they are getting at the moment.”

  “What about me, sir?” asked Peter.

  “Do you want to work in the stables or would you rather learn a trade?” asked Simeon.

  “I want to be a carpenter, but you can’t start until you’re fourteen unless your papa’s in the trade.”

  And his papa was dead, remembered Deborah.

  “I’ll look into that,” said Simeon.

  Deborah heard horses’ hooves and looked around as Amos and Mr. Ridley arrived with the three animals.

  Deborah was taken up before Simeon, Amos tied his horse to the wagon, and he drove the boys home, the others walking their horses beside the creaking vehicle.

  Deborah ached in so many different places she could hardly count them all. But the thought of going to school, that was the worst ache of all. What if the other girls didn’t like her?

  Chapter Five

  All the long, slow ride home Barnabas thought about what he’d seen, both today and in the preparations for Christmas. Suddenly words that Theodora, his mama, and his friend John had said started to make sense. “Blindly following his father’s ways”, “stuck in a rut”, “old before his time”, “staid”, “pompous”.

  Just because he preferred a quiet day at home reading by the fire didn’t mean that was the only appropriate way to spend the time. Everyone was different and liked different things. What a good thing it was he’d been prevented from berating Georgina about the noise of the decorations. Her way was so much better than his. All the people had been happy, involved, sharing a good time together.

  Even these naughty children today—and not forgetting the first dramatic occasion he’d seen them—simply showed they were lively and intelligent. They’d faced the consequences of their actions like men, shown courage when events exploded out of their control, and had tried to protect their little sister.

  He would buy himself a pair of woolly earmuffs and put them on whenever the activities in the vicarage became too noisy. I will learn to relate better to my people and to my new, extended family.

  The thought that he might have upset Georgina had he spoken roughly to her hurt him most of all. He loved her so much and he hoped that one day she might come to love him at least a little bit.

  ****

  Georgina wasn’t sure whether Barnabas would come to her bed while they were at Kingsdene. They didn’t have a connecting dressing room between their rooms here, and the house was full of people, making privacy a little difficult, but she wanted to thank him for his care of the children. While in theory the children were under Simeon’s control, in practice she had provided much of the guidance and supervision for their daily lives, and she still felt in some ways responsible for them.

  Apart from that, she realized she didn’t just respect him, she loved him. She loved his curly black hair, his sparkling hazel eyes, his strong muscular body, his deep voice that could send shivers right through her body, his clever mind, and his love and devotion to his parishioners. She understood he didn’t like the constant noise of a big, active family and was sure she could find ways to give him a peaceful haven where he could retire to read and write in silence. They could hang baize on his study door that might muffle the sound somewhat. Anyway, she was certain she could solve that problem, or at least alleviate it.

  She loved him and wanted him in her bed so she could whisper to him how much she adored everything about him.

  But would he come or must she wait until they returned home to the vicarage?

  Almost as if he heard her thoughts, there was a scratching at her door and his face peeped around the edge. She smiled brightly at him as he slipped through the gap.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said softly.

  “I couldn’t stay away from you,” he replied, struggling out of his jacket then dropping the rest of his clothes in a pile on the floor as he shed them quickly.

  She folded back the bed covers, allowing him to slip easily in beside her, then reached out to hug him.

  “Thank you for helping Simeon with the children today. Thank you for understanding how worried I was.”

  “No, thank you. Thank you for making me see I needed to be more involved with people, more aware of their daily lives, less isolated by my books and learning.”

  Barnabas leaned in to kiss her, pulling her head to his, tangling his fingers in her hair as their lips meshed together, tugging her to him, drawing the very soul out of her and into himself.

  When they finally drew apart, he dragged her bed gown up and off over her head then pulled her back down into his arms again. “Now I can hold you properly, skin to skin,” he murmured, his lips against her ear as he spoke.

  Then he was kneeling, kissing his way down her neck and on down until he sucked a breast into his mouth. That always felt so good. Already moisture was dripping from her cunny, and her breasts felt heavy, achy, needy as he licked and sucked first one then the other.

  Now that she’d learned some of the things he liked, she gently rubbed his back, massaging his muscles, feeling for places where they seemed knotted with tension. As he licked and sucked her body, she massaged and rubbed his back, until he reached her nubbin and sucked on it. Her hands rested on his taut ass, then very gently she cupped his sac and rolled his balls in her hand.

  He lifted his face from her cunny and whispered, “We can do this more efficiently.”

  Swiftly he lay on his back and pulled her over his body upside down. For a moment she was confused, but when his mouth latched onto her cunny again, she understood and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth while gently rolling his balls.

  She found this area of him quite fascinating, the way his cock grew longer and fatter, the way the head changed to a deep reddish color, the way his balls grew hard and warm in her hand.

  Gently she flicked her tongue into the slit of his cock, tasting his seed. It was salty and different but not repulsive, so she sucked harder and longer, bringing more fluid out into her mouth. Then she licked up the long vein, feeling it throb under her tongue, reveling in the power that was hidden inside this length of skin and muscle.

  She licked aroun
d the ridge where the shaft and head joined, enjoying the way his cock beat under her tongue and the hiss of indrawn breath from him that showed his appreciation for her sucking him.

  He was nibbling and biting the edges of her nether lips, sucking her nubbin and driving the coil of desire deep inside her higher and higher. His teeth gave a sharp nip on the sensitive flesh, and the coil exploded inside her, filling her with heat and warmth and good feelings.

  Her body was still shaking as he flipped her onto her back and drove his cock deep inside her throbbing center. He stroked fast and hard, his cock dragging along her walls, filling her, stretching her, sending her pleasure higher and higher.

  Her cunny was still pulsing all around him, her arms and legs weak and languid, as he began pinching her nipples in time with the thrusts of his cock.

  Suddenly her entire body woke up and was on fire again, the throb in her belly more powerful than ever, her pulse beating rhythmically with his strokes.

  He slammed into her one more time, his hot seed spurting deep inside her, and waves of release broke over her, making her entire body shake as the pleasure beat through her from the soles of her feet to the top of her head and everywhere in between.

  “Oh, oh,” she gasped as the wonderful feeling went on and on, more powerful than ever before.

  Barnabas pressed little kisses across her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth. “Every time is better than the one before. I love you so much, my beautiful wife. You haven’t just given me yourself, but also you’ve given me a true appreciation for the people and world around us. I’m so happy you’ve come into my life.”

  “I love you too. When we married I was sure you were a good man. Now I know you’re the only man who could ever make me happy.”

  “We’re going to be very happy indeed,” he replied, wiggling his cock deep inside her.

  The End

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