****
After she’d met with Cheltie and arranged Althea’s interview by offering to find a new nurse for his mother, Beth felt freer to explore on the second night. She was overjoyed when Calfman—whose name she’d learned was Franklin—bowed over her hand.
“May I have this dance, milady?”
Her eyebrows shot upward in surprise.
“We may join the festivities at our discretion once our duties were done. His lordship even gives us time to practice the dances before the house party each year.”
As the orchestra struck the final notes of the waltz, Calfman—er, Franklin—bowed, thanked her for the dance, and turned to the next lady.
She’d go home at the end of the week and not miss him, but her pride stung at him moving on first. She was tired of not being anyone’s choice. She always felt as if she had to pursue partners, rather than the other way around. It did not help that her body was clamoring for more attention after rubbing against his for a dance.
’Twas time to try door number two.
Raucous laughter spilled out as she opened the other ballroom door. Guests stood in a circle, exclaiming over Cheltie’s prowess at whatever game had just finished.
Damn me, I am sorry I missed that.
Her nipples were hard and chafing against her chemise, and her belly quivered from rubbing against her dance partner, echoing her thoughts. Then again, she doubted she’d be Cheltie’s choice either.
The sandy-haired man she suspected was Robert Orford stood with mouth agape as Cheltie brushed by Beth. She had searched for this creator of ingenious leather apparel last night to no avail. Close to Althea’s height, he was twice her width. A neatly trimmed beard covered the lower part of his pale face, and hazel eyes watched the crowd through strands of dark blond hair hanging in his face.
Those shoulders and arms could hold my weight for up-against-the-wall fun.
A strip of cloth dangling from his fingers, the man’s eyes moved to her, trailing up and down her curves as he announced the next round of the game.
Her eyes widened. A female servant rushed to explain their take on blindman’s bluff, where the person in the circle guessed names by fondling body parts. Beth bounced.How fun!
The gentleman eyed her chest as it jostled, so Beth pranced in place once more, giving him a saucy glance and a hand on her hip as she waited for him to either don the blindfold or join the circle.
He did neither.
She’d observed Cheltie talking in hushed tones to him earlier in the day, and now he’d been made delegate host, which made it likely that this was Cheltie’s best friend, Robert Orford. Despite her interest in his leather goods, the game beckoned, irresistible to her free spirit.
She gave a mental shrug.Let the wallflower watch.
Stepping into the circle, she became immersed in the game. The blindman, another guest whose name was Owen something-or-other if she remembered correctly, made his way around the loop, players snickering and whispering in anticipation of being touched. Proud of her breasts and as eager as the others, Beth arched her back to thrust out her chest. She peeked at likely-Robert. His focus was riveted on her prodigious assets.
Her gaze returned to the blindman when someone in the circle moaned. He was touching the third player in the circle, the servant directing his hands to the right height so he could not determine the guest’s name by fingering clothing.
The guest moaned low a second time, and the blindman laughed, his hands cupping her breasts. “With these lovelies, I don’t care how low you pitch your voice.”
She giggled, and he moved on.
As the blindfolded player touched the next guest’s waistcoat and starched linen covered chest, the man looked around, winked, and said in a high breathy voice, “Oh my dear Owen, oh yes. More, please.”
Owen scowled, his forehead above the mask wrinkling. But then he smiled slyly and tweaked the man’s nipple through his clothes.
The player gave a mock high-pitched shriek. “Yes, yes!”
Beth’s eyes fluttered shut as she conjured an image of the spectator as the guesser, burning a hole through the blindfold with a lustful look at her breasts as he tweaked one. A leather strap in his other hand tapped against his leg, matching his dark jacket and trousers. Her nipples beaded against her chemise, just as Owen reached her.
His hands cupped her sensitive flesh, thumbs cheekily brushing her nipples. He grinned with pleasure.
She gasped as a lick of heat coursed through her. She tilted her head to stare at likely-Robert, still imagining the hands stroking her were his.
He’d stepped away from the wall, frowning, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He regarded her face now, rather than her breasts.
