Free Carnal Pleasures by Blaise Kilgallen

otherwise she could have screeched her lungs out if she thought you would hurt her babies.” She giggled down at Simon.
    “Woof,” Simon replied. She hushed him with a raised finger against her lips. Having had his walk, filled his stomach, and feeling quite content, he plopped down in front of the fireplace, put his nose between his paws, eyes closed, and snoozed.
    Marnie, the little maid who had attended Dulcie yesterday, knocked on the door to see if Dulcie needed assistance. “What time does my stepmother rise in the morning?” Dulcie asked as she opened the door as the girl came in to straighten the rumpled bed.
    “Oh, Lady Trayhern—yer stepmother, I mean—she won’t be gettin’ up until ten of the clock unless she has somethin’ unusual to do. She takes her breakfast in her room, dresses afterwards. ‘Tis Trent, her abigail, who caters to her and does her hair before she comes out.” The girl hesitated. “I’m not a real lady’s maid like her, ye know,” Marnie explained half-heartedly.
    Dulcie turned and asked, “Would you like to be my abigail?” She remembered how nicely the girl had coiffed her hair. “I know I’ll need lots of help.”
    “Oh, I’d love to, Miss…er, Lady Dulcina. Truly I would.”
    “I’ll ask permission of my stepmother when I see her. Meanwhile, I’d really like a soak in a warm bath. I want to investigate more of the house after that.”
    * * * *
    Dulcie was headed back to her room after her tour of the upper floors when she saw the tall, tanned Mr. Spencer approaching her up the stairs from the foyer below. He must have just returned from breakfast. He paused at the top of one of the staircases and waited for her to join him.
    Her stepmother’s nephew was certainly striking-looking with his golden hair, sharp cut, masculine features, and light, piercing eyes. Last night Dulcie noticed he had a small dent in his chin, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, tear her eyes away from it. She wanted to touch a fingertip to that interesting crease. Such a wicked idea. The urge crawling across her brain had imbedded the thought there.
    “Good morning, Miss …er … I should say, Lady Dulcina,” Griff greeted her, dipping his chin with a show of respect to her title.
    Rarely, she thought, had anyone bowed to her at home. When he met her eyes, she felt a warm ooze of excitement run along her backbone. How can a man be born so beautiful, she thought, when I am so plain?
    “I’m well, Mr. Spencer. ‘Tis a lovely day, is it not?”
    “I hadn’t noticed until I came up the stairs and saw your smiling countenance, Lady Dulcina. I daresay you brightened my day.”
    Good Lord, it was preposterous for one man to possess the breathtaking good looks and then exude such masculine charisma.
    A heated blush crept onto Dulcie’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to compliments. She fingered a plain ruffle around her high-necked gown, feeling uncomfortable after hearing his flowery words.
    “You know, Lady Dulcina, I saw a portrait hanging in the picture gallery a few days ago. You resemble your birth mother. Do you know that?”
    “You noticed a portrait of my mother?”
    “Yes. I was struck by the resemblance between you and her when I first met you.”
    Dulcie’s hot cheeks grew even redder. “Er, Mr. Spencer, there are several female portraits in the gallery. To which one did you refer?”
    “Why the lady in blue. Both she and you have the same lovely eyes and hair.”
    She knew her own mother was simply pleasant to look at, not a raging beauty.
    Dulcie ducked her head. There was a portrait of Agina hanging in the gallery, too, wearing a frothy gown of pale pink. Dulcie knew in her heart she would never be as eye-catching and beautiful as her stepmother, although secretly, she wished she were. She had entertained the wish when she was introduced to Griffith Spencer last eve. What if his flattery was false, and what if she didn’t believe a word of it? What difference would it