“Good evening, Mr. Worthing. My name is Ben. The lady of the house sent me to see to you as your valet while you are here.”
“Thank you, Ben.” He smiled at the lad, who set about unpacking his valise.
Toeing off his boots, Ambrose leaned against his bed and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. Ben helped retrieve his clothes as he removed them piece by piece. When he was down to breeches and a white lawn shirt, he raked a hand through his hair and focused on tomorrow. Mrs. Darby had invited him to her annual picnic by sending him an invitation when he’d had to pass her on the way out of the assembly hall, and he knew Alex was going because she and the Darby girl, Perdita, were friends. Ambrose’s lips curved up into a smile, one of delicious wickedness. Picnics were excellent for seductions. It was impossibly easy to get a woman behind a hedge or a tree and have his way with her. The fact that they could be discovered at any moment only heightened the intensity of their release.
Ben held out his knee-length silk damask banyan, and Ambrose slid it on. It fit close to his body. He left his trousers on for the moment; he waited to remove those until he was certain he was going to bed.
“Thank you, Ben. That will be all for this evening.”
“Good night, Mr. Worthing.” The young man slipped out into the hall and closed the door, leaving Ambrose alone with his thoughts.
Ambrose was in the middle of debating whether to go to bed when he heard the soft click of a door open down the hall. Intrigued, he put his ear to the door, listening to bare feet padding past his door. The footfalls were distinctly feminine. Ambrose grinned. Servants wouldn’t be barefoot, but the daughter of the Earl of Rockford might.
“Let it never be said I skipped such a perfect opportunity.” He chuckled and eased his door open.
The billowing shape of Alex’s nightgown partially covered by a dressing gown was a beacon in the dark hall. Her hair was unbound, the long locks flowing down to the middle of her back, the ends slightly curled. As she tiptoed down the hall, her ankles drew his attention like no other ankles had. They weren’t tiny or delicate, but they were seductive. He wanted them to lock around his waist or link around his calves as he pounded into her, making her writhe in pleasure.
Soon. Soon.
He followed the gleam of the chestnut hair that bounced in loose waves down her back. She led him on a merry chase without even knowing it, when she turned down the hall and into the kitchens. Ambrose ducked back out of sight before she could have seen him. The scrape of wood against stone told him she’d pulled back a chair from one of the counters. After the clink of silverware and a moan of pleasure, he simply couldn’t continue denying himself the view of whatever she was doing. He purposely stumbled into the kitchen, as though surprised to find himself there.
Alex froze, fork poised near her parted lips, a chunk of what looked like blackberry tart speared on the fork tines. Her lashes flared up, her eyes unusually wide as she watched him.
“So sorry to interrupt…uh…what is it exactly you are doing?” He glanced about the kitchens before approaching the opposite side of the counter and taking a seat facing her.
Alex was as red as a cherry. “Mrs. Cooper always leaves me a tart after the balls. She knows I get hungry because we don’t have a chance to eat while all of the dancing goes on.”
“Smart woman, your cook. Mind if I have a bite?” He plucked the fork out of her hand and dipped it into his mouth.
“Hmmm, that’s good. Truly exquisite, like being in bed with a courtesan.”
The look on her face was worth his rather colorful choice of words.
To his surprise, Alex laughed. “You are comparing food to…to that?”
“Food and sex? Absolutely, my dear. They are even better together, though.”
The responding enlarged pupils of her eyes made his mouth water. Alex was a fascinating contradiction. A virgin, but a woman who felt desire quite strongly and was aware of how there could be pleasure in bed for both partners, not just the man. A woman who knew about sex but hadn’t experienced it. A rare find in her level of society.
She was curious—he could see that in the way she watched him steal another bite of her tart and lick his lips. She wasn’t in the least bit afraid of him. Skittish, perhaps, of physical contact, but not afraid. She was terrified of his reputation, but of him? No. And it was a rare woman who could separate the two.
“I think you say these things on purpose to unbalance me.” Alex crossed her arms under her breasts, which only pressed her breasts up, giving him a much better view.
“You’re right, Alex, love. I find the task of unbalancing you deliciously challenging.” He would love to unbalance her right back onto the counter and feast on her rather than the tart, but it was still too soon.
“Have you ever had a decent conversation with a woman? One you weren’t attempting to seduce?”
The question caught him off guard. Her bluntness was an admirable trait.
“Of course,” he scoffed.
“Really? With whom?” she challenged.
He blustered for a moment. “With my mother and sister.”
“You have a sister?” Alex uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, eyes bright with interest.
“Yes. Violet is seventeen. Just had her first season. I was beating men off with a stick. Though I suspect that has more to do with her inheritance. She’s lovely, but shy.” Ambrose loved Violet. She was a little darling.
