No matter how long Robert would want to play with her, and how much she’d get to interject into what was essentially his business, Beth was not one to mope. Instead, she decided to enjoy her time with Robert for however long it lasted.
She’d help him because she liked him and because that is what she did. And she’d enjoy their time together, leather or no, while it lasted. The rest she’d worry about later.
Unsure what Robert would think of selling to the school and the method he’d prefer, she was anxious to hear back from Helen Montague. She daren’t share any information about the program or alumnae without permission.
Upon arriving home Tuesday, she found Althea in the bath with news that the men had returned. She pivoted and raced for the front hall and the pile of mail. Sure enough, a note from Robert awaited her with his address and an invitation to visit after supper. She would not hear from Helen for at least another fortnight, but she was eager to talk to Robert about selling through Sarah Potter’s club with a catalogue.
Chasing back upstairs, Beth borrowed Althea’s bath, ensured her cousin was dressed appropriately to entertain her man, and returned below stairs to borrow a maid’s dress. There was no one her same shape, so she nabbed a dress that was a tad small, knowing the tightness would accent Robert’s favorite aspect of her anatomy. She traded the girl one of her simpler gowns that was hardly worn, knowing most of the maids sewed and someone could tailor it for her.
Changing her dress, she grabbed her borrowed servant’s cloak and hood and waited for the hour to be late enough. Pacing the library, she kept checking out the window for darkness, then for Cheltie. When she heard him on the stairs, she darted out, shrugging on her cloak as she exited the back door he had just entered.
Robert had told her where he lived when they were in Bath, as she wondered where he had storage space for his work. She’d been surprised that he owned a townhouse in the City, not far from Mayfair, the most elegant and expensive neighborhood.
Knocking on the kitchen door as a servant would, she gave her name to the servant who answered.
They were back within a minute, out of breath, and gestured her inside. “Please, miss, this way.”
“Thank you. I am sorry to disturb you so late.”
“Not at all. Mister Orford only arrived home from his club a short while ago.”
Beth wondered which club he’d been at, Sarah’s or White’s. Jealousy stabbed behind her ribs when she thought of him at Sarah’s. But she had no right to be jealous. She reminded herself to take what fun she could from him and not worry about the rest.
And then he was there, sitting with a half-stitched leather strap in his hands, frowning. His eyes ran down then up her, and he spat, “What on earth are you wearing?”
“I borrowed a simpler gown and cloak to ensure I did not draw attention to myself on the way here. ’Tis why I knocked at the servant’s entrance. You ought to give me a key, Robert.” When in doubt, Beth tried to bluster her way through a situation.
He raised his brows. “I ought, oughtn’t I?”
“Is that even a word? But yes. Yes, you ought, and here is why. I have had some excellent ideas to get you more sales. How did you plan for me to arrive? Shall I knock on the front door next time? You said you wanted to keep things quiet.”
“You are, as always, outlandish.” He approached and caught her hand, pulling her into his arms. The garment he’d been working on slapped gently against her back. Slanting his mouth across hers, he caressed her lips with his, teasing and nibbling in an extended welcome kiss.
She’d be outlandish any day if she received such caring soft kisses that she knew would lead to rougher, more dominant play. Her eyes drifted shut, and she leaned against his comforting strength.
He pulled away from the kiss, loosening his arms around her, and asked, “You’re here now. Do you want a drink?”
“Oh, yes, please. Do you have sherry or champagne, or mayhap port? Spirits will make me groggy at this hour, I confess.”Or groggier than his kiss already has.
Shaking her head once to clear it, she scanned the room. It looked much like his workshop at Greenborough Park—lumps of unidentifiable furniture under half-finished leather garments, with one chair and a settee mostly clear. The walls were a neutral cream with dark wood wainscoting below the chair rail.
“Hmm. I wonder if I might not enjoy you being calmer or groggier once in a while,” he grumbled, but he rummaged in the cabinet and produced an only slightly dusty bottle of port. Uncapping it, he sniffed it before pouring a measure into a glass for her.
She grinned at him. “Now then. What are you making?”
Chapter Thirteen
Robert glanced at the item hestill held. It was an order for a customer, not a new design. Whilst the girls at Sarah’s were always ready to try new experiences, none of them had Beth’s gorgeous curves or her sharp intellect in evaluating his work.
Beyond enjoying the willing test subject, he could not imagine returning to Sarah’s girls when Beth inevitably moved on to someone less shy, less grumpy, lesshim.
Half the time, he wanted to strangle her for her flagrant disregard of society’s rules. The disregard he could live with. It was the publicness that bothered him. The other half, he wanted to strip her and buckle her to his bed and torture her for hours or mayhap days. He couldn’t decide which was the better path. Likely neither.
Admit you’re happy with her interest in you and your work.
Always before now, he’d preferred to work and live alone. At Greenborough Park, Evan only expected him at the evening meal. Even when not busy with the earldom or his mother, Evan knew Robert liked his own space. However, more and more, he enjoyed Beth’s assistance with his work.
Beyond that, her willingness to try all sorts of new toys and positions fitted his creativity to perfection, and—this he still marveled at—she said she found him attractive. He was still working on believing her, but the possibility added to her allure.
