The Officer's Temptation | A Regency Romance

Chapter Two: The Water Nymph

Chapter Two: The Water Nymph

Mr. Croft, the butler, started in surprise when Marlowe let himself in through the servants' door that led to the kitchens. "Your mother said you would be gone to town, sir." Though he raised an eyebrow at Marlowe's unkempt appearance-- hair wild from the wind and damp from the light rain that had accosted him on his way home, coat and boots splattered with mud, he didn't ask where he had been. "Shall I send your valet to your rooms?"

Marlowe yanked his boots off, leaving them by the door along with the messy heap of his greatcoat. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Croft. Is there any supper?"

"I can have something sent to your rooms, sir. Although I believe they are still serving in the dining room."

Marlowe looked up in alarm. "I beg your pardon? Are my parents here? I thought they said they were going to call on the Jennings."

"It's my understanding that the Jennings called on your parents first, sir. They are all upstairs in the main dining room. Shall I tell your mother that you will join?"

"Ah. Well, thank you, but no, Mr. Croft. Just have someone bring something up to my room. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a mess."

"Of course, sir." Mr. Croft inclined his head briefly.

Marlowe took the servants' stair to his room on the first storey, slipping a bit in his stockinged feet over the polished wooden floors. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, body alive with a hundred emotions. First, there was elation, a giddiness so profound it bordered on intoxication. The taste of Arabella's skin was on his lips, the memory of her lush body played over and over in his mind, the sounds she had made, mewling underneath her as he had sheathed himself inside of her echoed over and over in his ears. Dear God, just the thought gave him goosebumps.

But then, of course, there was the irritation. His parents, unfortunately at home and with the Jennings, no less! And here he was, sneaking into his own room like a whelp, fresh from a tryst with a married woman. He swallowed hard. Ah yes, married. He had conveniently forgotten that she was married while he had been grinning like a madman as he walked home, conjuring visions of her milky breasts in his mind's eye. What a fool he was!

It was a delicate situation and no doubt about it. No wonder his nerves were frayed.

He had scarcely sat down on his own bed when there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" he called, frowning to himself, flexing his stiff hand against his thigh.

"Ah there you are, Thomas," he said as his new valet entered. Thomas had just been promoted from footman and was still very formal and eager to please. "I'll just get ready for bed, if you don't mind. Oh and a bit of supper. Did cook not send you up with anything?"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but your mother has requested... well, demanded your presence downstairs."

Marlowe stopped exercising his hand and glanced up in alarm. "What?"

"Mr. Croft sent her your regrets that you would not be joining the party in the dining room. She said that no one is to bring dinner to your rooms, that you are to be dressed immediately and join the company downstairs." Thomas twiddled his gloved fingers at his sides, clearly uncomfortable.

"What am I? A child again?" He stood quickly, glowering. "No, no, it's not your fault," he said, seeing Thomas's nervousness. "Just help me dress, then. There's no arguing with her when she's like this." He sighed as Thomas helped him out of the damp clothes and into a fresh suit of clothing. "There is nothing quite like staying with one's parents to make one long to return to war," Marlowe quipped sourly as soon as his coat had been slipped on over his shoulders.