A promise.
He pressed their twined hands into the folds of her skirts, wishing he could take back the last three days, the last six months, and start over together. Giles knew, above all else, that she wanted him to be honest with her.
Tonight, he would be.
He leaned to her ear, brushing his lips against the soft tendrils of hair that curled there. “I told you the truth today.” He lowered his voice to a husky timbre, watching as a warm heat crept up her throat. She exhaled on a shiver as he confessed, “I am unworthy of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Louisa spent the meal fantasizing about her husband, seated at the dinner table when she’d rather be dining privately with him.
Sometime between champagne and canapés, her lover had prowled onto the scene—not Lord Granborough, a cool and correct marquess, but Giles, that dashing, risk-taking cavalier who colored her dreams.
“I am unworthy of you,”he had whispered, and she’d nearly come undone at the sound.
Her breasts grew irritated by the unyielding confines of her corset. Her legs felt over-warm in layers of silk and heavy velvet. She longed to part her thighs.
She’d discovered something wondrous today and ached to experiencela petit mortagain.
Louisa plucked another oyster from the tray and gulped it down. She felt ravenous, but knew it was pointless to reach for food when she craved something carnal. Something that was—for the moment—beyond reach.
Lady Sitwell eyed her from across the table. “Are you quite well, my dear? You look feverish.”
The gathered group turned to her, studying her aroused state in various degrees of concern. Only Madame de Roubernon appeared amused. The Frenchwoman hid her knowing grin as Louisa writhed in her seat, for the erotic novel had achieved the desired effect.
Louisa dropped Lord Granborough’s hand to place her palm to her cheeks. They felt aflame. She would’ve been mortified if she weren’t so grateful to Lady Sitwell for giving her an excuse to leave the table.
“You know, I am a little flushed… Too much champagne, I’m sure.” She turned to His Lordship, asking, “My lord, would you mind walking me back to our cabin? I think I’d better lie down.”
Lord Granborough rose. “Of course, dear.”
They quit the table, thanking the other diners for their company, pleading with them not to trouble themselves onheraccount. It was likely a reaction to the oysters, they concluded. Everybody wished Her Ladyship a restful evening.
Her husband escorted her through the crowded dining saloon. Heads swiveled and mouths whispered, but Louisa felt impervious to the chatter. She clung to Lord Granborough’s arm with trembling fingers. She counted the steps as they mounted the staircase and made slow progress toward the upper floor.
“You’ve not seemed yourself all day, Louisa. Once I see you to bed, we ought to send for the ship’s surgeon.”
She paused on the landing to pull him aside, confiding, “I’m faking. The truth is, I couldn’t stand another minute seated at that table. I needed a reason to get out of there.”
“So you roped me into your scheme?” His Lordship frowned. “Am I to lie to our dinner companions for you?”
“It’s only a little fib.” Louisa did feel a prick of conscience for abandoning their party, but her marriage was more important. “They are all so kind, and I don’t wish to hurt their feelings.” She tucked her arm through his and urged him forward. “Tomorrow, you may tell them whatever you like, but tonight…tonight, lie with me.”
They crossed the reception area as he guided her toward their stateroom. As they walked, he told her of Mr. Meyer’s card game, of the Californian businessman whom he swore was a confidence trickster out to swindle them all, and how eager he was to see the poker play unfold.
“You intend to join the others in the smoking room?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I?”
The question hung in the air between them. Louisa did not want him to go, but she didn’t know how to ask for what she desired. It was one thing to read of a seduction, yet something altogether different to speak the words aloud.
They reached their passageway only a few doors down from their suite. She must work quickly if she meant to accomplish her goal. Thankfully, Louisa thought fast on her feet.
“You’re brave for entering into that den of vice,” she teased, “after the sad state in which you woke this morning.”
Lord Granborough rose to her bait. “Why, when you were so very wifely? I seem to recall you soothed my sour head and held me through the worst of it.” He edged closer to whisper, “I awoke in your arms, dear, and napped with the scent of you clinging to the bedsheets. You made the agony of my poor choices bearable. I am obliged to you for seeing to my comfort.”
He thought of her as a wife, not an obligation. No longer a gaudy girl whose presence must be endured. Hearing that, Louisa took a risk, offering, “I could see to your comfort inother ways…”
