She slid off the chaise and ambled to him, her hips swaying, before dancing her fingers up his chest. “Can’t old friends visit each other without prior correspondence?”
“They can,” he replied easily. “But in your case, there are always conditions, strings, complications. What do you need, Rosa?”
“Nothing but your male company,Your Grace,” she replied, her hand sliding from his chest to his abdomen and further. “The physical gifts you were blessed with…”
Her proprietary caress over his burgeoning arousal, paired with her practiced husky whisper, did draw a physical response, and thinking back to the last time he’d had relations with a woman, William allowed it, just for the feel of physical release.
He stiffened, however, and though he had no true lust for the woman, he would take an uncomplicated dalliance with a willing lady. Peeling her hands from his person, he rounded the desk, tugged a drawer open, and pulled out a white box of French Letters.
Plucking out a white tube with red strings dangling at one end, he unfastened his waistcoat, undid his cufflinks, and dropped them in a small box. “Well, toss up those skirts, sweetheart.”
Her eyes lowered. “I’d prefer a bed.”
“I don’t take lightskirts to my bed,” he said. “Those four-posters are sacred to me.”
“Sacred,” she pouted. “Why sacred? You hardly have a wife.”
“Matters not,” he smiled wolfishly. “The chaise or the door, Rosa, you choose.”
“Good work on Lady Ruth’s daughter’s gown,” the seamstress, Mrs. Abernathy, peered at the almost invisible stitching with her spectacles perched on her nose. “Your needlework has grown leaps and bounds in the past four months.”
Smiling, Bridget agreed. “Your tutelage is why I am so good.”
If she felt confident in anything, it rested in her aptitude as a pupil. Back in her schooldays, she had prided herself on being a student with good sense. Her tutors had always remarked on her quickness in acquiring proficiency in various subjects, from French to music to painting.
“Nevertheless,” the widow pulled her spectacles away and hung the dress so it would not wrinkle. “The lady will be most pleased, and I am sure she will reward you handsomely.”
A knock on the door had them turning to it, and when it was pushed in, a young man in shades of brown and tan steppedinside, doffing his hat. Shaking his flaxen hair, he smiled, blue eyes bright. “Pardon me, but I am told a Lady Bridget is—”
“Adam!” Bridget shot up from her seat at seeing her brother’s old friend who made it a habit to drop in on her when he was in town. “I mean, Baron Howell,” she dropped into a curtsey. “How good to see you.”
Instead of replying, Adam turned his bright blue eyes to Mrs. Abernathy. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Abernathy. I hope you are doing well. Would you please give Lady Bridget and I a moment to talk?”
“Of course,” the portly woman stood. “You have been by here months ago, My Lord, you’re quite familiar. I shan’t deny my prize apprentice of time with her friend, but please keep it to a quarter of an hour. We do have other jobs to attend to.”
“Thank you,” Adam replied, then took Bridget’s hand and kissed it. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, overjoyed at his company. “How are you though? I am surprised you can come here at will. Shouldn’t you have a doting wife by now?”
He grinned. “I have been asking you for that honor for years, but still you refuse me,” Adam teased while reaching into his bag and pulling out a tin of her once favorite lemon drops. “I come bearing gifts, my dear.”
Her lips parted at the sight of the treat. “You… remembered?”
“Of course, little sister,” Adam smiled. “You have such simple desires that one cannot help but fulfill one or two of them. Here, it is yours, and do not tell me I shouldn’t have, because not only did I want to, but I am also able to. A tin is just a few pennies.”
Taking it, she smiled. “Thank you. It means a lot to me. How—” she swallowed. “How is my brother?”
Adam’s face fell. “I have not heard or seen him, dear, as I am not in that part of the town much due to my frequent travels. But, believe me, when I do go back to York, I will search high and wide for him.”
With her chest swelling with affection and appreciation, she smiled and hugged the tin to her chest. “Thank you, Adam. You are such a wonderful friend.”
He inclined his head. They chatted for a little longer before he reached for his hat, “I believe I have used up all our allotted time. I am sure we’ll speak again and during that time, rest assured, I shall find your brother.”
“Adam,” she swallowed. “When you find Frederick, please tell him that I do love him, and I will come back home as soon as I am able. Which is looking to be very soon.”
“I surely will,” Adam smiled before heading for the door. Pausing, he stopped at the door and turned to her. “Keep being the sweet soul you are, Bridget.”
“I’ll try,” she replied, watching him as he left the shop.
