The situation could not continue. Aurora’s absence was bound to be noticed, though certainly not by Miss Maplehurst who seemed to have completely abandoned her duties. Or one of his servants might gossip though they’d proved discreet in the past. Charles resolved to instruct Ropely to refuse her entrance when Lady Aurora attempted to call upon him again.
He shouldn’t have underestimated her tenacity.
The following day Aurora appeared in Charles’s study. She’d come through the kitchens after being denied entry by Ropely.
Charles hated that he was happy to see her, his hungry gaze running over Aurora’s generous curves garbed in a dress of soft rose. Inhaling the scent of honeysuckle, Charles pasted a bored look on his face. “I am not receiving visitors today.”
Aurora gave him a knowing look with no hint of apology. “Chapter two. Page eleven.” She lifted her chin.
“This cannot continue, Aurora.” It really could not. Charles was in danger of losing his mind over her. “I can’t have you popping up uninvited. Or at all.”
She held out the book, the page carefully marked. “The possibility of climaxing in such a situation intrigues me. I want to know if it is possible.”
Charles opened the book.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Considering the other things they’d done, the adoration of Aurora’s breasts, suckling her nipples to bring about her release seemed tame. “I don’t—”
Never taking her eyes from his, Aurora calmly undid the buttons stretching down the front of her dress. The fabric parted, exposing the pale cotton of her chemise and the shadow of her pert, taut nipples. “I’m not wearing a corset.”
Charles attempted to compose himself. He’d dreamt of Aurora’s naked breasts for some time, wondering how sensitivethose delicious mounds might be given Aurora’s inherently sensual nature. Her nipples were peaked and hard, practically begging for his mouth.
“Aurora, I insist you clothe yourself and—” The words froze on his lips as Aurora cupped both breasts, before reaching up to tug down the ribbon holding up her chemise.
Charles had seen a great many breasts. Nipples of all shapes and sizes. He was something of a rake, after all. But the sight of Aurora, with bits of lace teasing along those globes of flesh as the chemise fell from her shoulders, almost made him faint.
The entire visit lasted only half an hour. As it happened, Aurora and her breasts needed little coaxing from Charles. He suckled. Licked. Nibbled. Stroked. While Aurora made the most incredible sounds splayed across his lap once more. Her moans were muffled by biting into his shoulder.
Another failure at controlling his baser instincts. One of his best handkerchiefs ruined.
He almost prayed that Emerson would find out and beat him half to death.
In a desperate bid to maintain his sanity, Charles decided a trip to view Kenebruke’s textile mill himself was in order. The trip would take the better part of a week, time enough to gain some perspective. He left no note and instructed Ropely that if Lady Aurora called, she was to be informed he would be out of town on business for some time.
Viewing the mill, walking the grounds, and noting the improvements that would need to be made kept Aurora out of his thoughts for the most part. He’d taken rooms at a nearby inn and even enjoyed the mild flirtation of a widow traveling through Manchester, though he didn’t follow Mrs. Weathers back to her room as she suggested. The only thing he could think of was Aurora and what he should do about her.
As it turned out, Charles had to do nothing.
Upon his return from viewing the textile mill, a stack of correspondence and invitations awaited him, but not Lady Aurora Sinclair. Ropely informed Charles he had no female visitors at all while he was gone. The following day, Charles expected her to appear brandishingThe Bloom of the Rose. He waited, somewhat impatiently, for her to appear.
She did not.
Charles poured a brandy and settled before the fire with a good book. He’d neglected his reading as of late except forThe Bloom of the Rose. If Aurora had decided to cease this torment of him, so much the better. Possibly, she’d finally realized that her behavior was going to cause them both a great deal of trouble. Or maybe Aurora had learned enough from their time together and simply ended things on her own.
His chest hurt. Charles put it down to the excess of ham he’d had at breakfast, not the loss of Aurora.
Charles was vastly relieved. He could now go about pleasing widows and unhappily married women without a qualm. Enjoy the remainder of the Season without worrying over Aurora, who he meant to avoid like the plague. No one need ever know about his shocking lack of control.
Never once, while he sipped his brandy and read some dull tome on how best to dye wool, did Charles acknowledge how much he missed her.
Chapter Thirteen
Aurora strolled aboutthe gardens behind Emerson House, a book clasped in one hand. Notthebook, of course, but something more proper for her to read. No number of books, however, could keep the terrible hollowness over Worth at bay. He’d warned her that this was a dangerous game and Aurora hadn’t listened. Now, she must admit defeat.
Plopping down in the grass, she lay back and stared up at the clouds in the sky, tossing the book aside. When she’d been a child at Dunnings, clouds had been Aurora’s preferred entertainment. It cost nothing to envision goats, cows, sailing ships, and the like. Books, though, had been a luxury at Dunnings. The library, if one could call it such, boasted only a battered copy of the bible and a few unimportant novels.
A large cloud floated above her. If she squinted, the cloud resembled a pot of tea.
