“Yes,” he managed.
“Good.”
Lady Caplin looked over her shoulder, a softness to her face as she studied him. After a moment she smiled wide, those dimples appearing on her cheeks. Then she turned back to her plants.
Matthew realized that this was her private space, her sanctuary. How could it not be? He couldn’t recall ever having seen her so relaxed, so dreamlike. Quickly he looked away; it wouldn’t do to think of her in that way. She might flirt with him, might make a game of it, but she was not for him.
“It is clear that his skills have improved,” she said, “and for that I must thank you.”
She picked up a potted orchid, holding it far from her pristine white gown as she began walking down a tiled path. Matthew hesitated, but decided her intention was for him to follow. So he did. She came to a little alcove with a potting table and set the orchid gently down.
“If it’s not Henry you wish to discuss, you must mean to ask after my half of the bargain.”
Admiring her fine collection of books had reminded him of the Athenaeum’s collection. They spent four hundred and fifty poundsperannummaintaining and improving their own private, members-only library. His mouth opened slightly.
“Well, then.” She smirked and crossed her arms, sauntering closer to him as she spoke. “I’ll have you know I’ve spoken with my brother, Sir Frederick Catton. He’s agreed to bring you to luncheon as a guest.”
Excitement surged in him. Just as quickly though, it receded, as he considered her exact words.
“As a guest?” Matthew choked out. “Our agreement—”
“There’s no need to pull a face, Doctor. No one has perished.” She sighed, cocking her head to one side as she considered him. They now stood scandalously close. In the sweltering heat, that floral scent she always wore was even more potent, especially as it was accentuated by the ambient aroma of the surrounding greenery. “Yes, I’m well aware the agreement was to enable you to stand for election. I have not forgotten, and I shall uphold my promise to its full extent.” She lowered her voice, as if imparting a secret. “This is merely the first step of my overarching strategy.”
Matthew felt his center tighten. Why did she have to be so damned alluring? Why must she torture him so? With some effort he nodded, doing his best to appear civilized while desperately trying not to focus on the bead of sweat running along her neck, then down her chest, underneath the bodice of her gown…
He tore his gaze away only to be caught by hers. Her dark eyes glinted with amusement, a wry smile playing across her lips. The heat in the room increased exponentially. Mortified, Matthew suddenly wished to be immolated on the spot.
“Doctor, might I beg a handkerchief off of you?”
Glad to have an instruction to follow, he produced a clean folded square from his pocket. This one was plain, with no incriminating initials embroidered by Harriet’s hand. His entire body felt clammy underneath his summer suit.
She locked eyes with him intently, as if she wanted to be certain of his attention. And then she pressed the square of linen to her neck, just below her ear. And then a little lower. Then lower still, down to her décolletage. Matthew’s breathing slowed. He could no longer meet her eyes, only watch her hand pathetically, desperately. And then she came to the top of her bodice, her slim fingers pausing, waiting. Matthew couldn’t bearit. He couldn’t be thinking these thoughts, feeling these urges. And yet he couldn’t look away.
She languorously slid the folded handkerchief underneath the bodice’s neckline.
Christ, how he wanted to pull her close, fiddle with the small buttons, and open her gown. He wanted his mouth upon her, tasting her, teasing at her nipples through the fine fabric of her chemise. His head felt thick and heavy, his cock hard. The world around him had slowed; everything was heady and dreamlike.Blasted humidity.
His fingers itched with the urge to touch her, to slide a hand behind her neck and…
Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, her words slow and deliberate. “I did not realize I was being indelicate.”
Matthew drew a shaky breath. When he forced his eyes open again, she was holding the handkerchief out. He couldn’t meet her eyes, could barely move to retrieve the handkerchief, now damp and richly scented.
“There now. Are you all better, then?”
No.Not hardly. Every cell in his body was tight and uncomfortable, desperate for relief.
“Of… of course,” he said, his voice thick. “I shall…” He backed up, knocking over a wicker ottoman. He righted it, his ears burning. “I shall see you next week.”
“Until then, Doctor,” she said.
But Matthew did not know how she looked when she said it, whether her expression was twisted in disgust or smug at his brutal humiliation, for he couldn’t look up from the lovely decorative tiles as he backed away. He could not bear to endure her censure.
He turned tail and fled.
He hailed a hack, unwilling to walk the city with his mind so arrested by the image of her fingers gently sliding the handkerchief across her bosom, skating just underneath her gown.
