*important notice at end of story*

Part 8 of 8

Dreams End as Lovers Wake

Camille jerks awake suddenly, images of fine velvets and brocades and elegantly coiffed hair all awry booming in her head. Her galvanic jerk awakes her husband who grunts at the elbow in his ribs then he rubs his eyes and sits up. He looks down at his wife to see a strange look on her face as she gazes up at him.

"Good morning," he mumbles through a yawn, arms stretching and muscles warming up for the day. Then he cocks his head, "Why are you looking at me like that? Was I snoring?"

Her eyes shine as she slips a hand up his back, "No, my sweet, you don't snore. And even if you did, I wouldn't care. A bit of noise wouldn't make any difference. I'm so lucky to have you in my life and I know it." She sits up swiftly and plants a kiss on his whiskery cheek.

He blinks in surprise, rubs the kiss, feels the stubble, "Oh, well, I'm glad for that then. My father chuffs like a steam locomotive. Mother has to wear ear plugs."

She smiles, "Fascinating. And, may I say, I am SO glad you aren't an 1813 man but a good and proper modern man."

He ponders this briefly, "Ah! I see. Dreaming of a certain Lord, were you? Meeting up behind the draperies at a ball? Scurrying off into the gardens? Kisses behind the hedges?" Despite his jocular tone, he looks a bit shifty.

She starts at this. How does he know her so well? She lowers her eyes and mutters, "Hey, I'm not in control of my dreams, you know. After watching that show then discussing it with you, my mind just naturally went there."

He nods, "I agree, none of us are in control of our dreams, are we? Well, I dreamed too and I think I came up with a plausible explanation for what your poxy Lord F might have been up to. It has to do with those French counterfeit plates I mentioned. You see…"

This insult to The Arts cannot be ignored but it does make her forget his comment about dreaming too, "He's NOT poxy! I think you meant to say 'sexy'." Richard rolls his eyes. "Besides, it's just a TV show and probably not too accurate," she finishes lamely.

He swivels, puts his feet down onto the cool floor-boards, "Oh, there had to be SOME research involved. It can't just be teenagers having sex all over the place for no good reason at all."

She slides over to him, drapes herself across his back, "Yeah, well, there could have been some sex for the grown-ups too in my humble opinion, ONE grown-up in particular."

He stands, flexes. She watches, sighs. He turns to look down at her, "I'm sure. You'd put Lord F through his paces right smartly, wouldn't you?"

She stands, slips her arms around him, relishing the cool slide of skin on skin, "Based on what I dreamed last night, Lord F and I wouldn't have gotten along. Not at all. You, on the other hand, are exactly my cup of tea!" She runs her eyes over him and sighs, "Yes, you are."

He slings an arm around her and gives her a squeeze, "Speaking of tea, howzabout it?"

She laughs, "Come on, you, let's put the kettle on. Then you can tell me all about this dream of yours." He freezes ever so slightly, his eyes widening. She pokes him in the ribs, "You know, that counterfeit idea of yours?"

He jerks back into action and escorts her towards the kitchen, "Oh, er, yes, gladly. It's quite complicated. I'm sure I'm over-thinking it but since it involves the Foreign Office, politics, spies, and crime rings, I doubt it." He pauses in the doorway and looks down at her, "And then you can tell me about your dream. I'm sure there's a lot less politics involved."

She bites her lip, "Um, sure, but I think you'll be surprised by the ending. I know I was."

He kisses the top of her head, "Darling, nothing you say or do any more surprises me at all. I am a graduate of 'The Bordey School of Shenanigans' summa cum laude. And I've got the scars to prove it."

END

*I invite you to check out a brand new (big) story on the FF site for 'Bridgerton-the TV series' (not the books), titled 'The Adventures of Lord Featherington', on Wednesday July 21, a collaborative effort by S/P and farfromhome. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it - but we're using an alias so don't let on you know it's us, OK?*