“Let’s leave now,” he whispered hoarsely. “You must be ready for something else.”
She smiled knowingly at this, and the sight heated his blood to an intolerable degree.
Miss Annabelle protested when they went to collect her, her voice pitched lower to maintain her disguise as she argued that they hadn’t seen how it would end yet.
“She’s going to sit on a horse looking exactly as she does now for the next two hours while everyone else keeps dancing,” Lyman snapped, exasperated. “At the end they abolish taxes.”
And here he’d thought she would be shocked! Maybe Miss Danbyhad been telling the truth about her sister’s character. They were two of a kind.
He tried not to look at Miss Danby as he led their group outside and into one of the many hansom cabs lounging near the entrance, but it was impossible. She drew his attention like a brilliant red flame in the darkness of the London streets. Whenever she caught him staring, she smiled her encouragement, her eyes full of promise.
Stop doing that, he wanted to scold her. She was too lovely. Someone would take a second look and realize she was wrapped up in an ill-fitting costume.
It was a relief to finally motion her into the carriage and shut the door on the outside world. He felt a stab of regret at the thought of all the expenses of the night adding up—the ride here and back, plus their admission, which he had too much pride to admit he could ill afford—but he was too distracted to dwell on it.
“You see?” she said triumphantly. “It all went very well.”
Lyman leaned his head back against the leather seat, willing his heart to stop pounding. He couldn’t say how much stemmed from the fear of discovery, as opposed to the memory of her hand upon his thigh. “Promise me you’ll never attempt anything this foolhardy again.”
“What can you mean? No one suspected a thing.”
He didn’t answer, still struggling to regain his self-control. What would happen when they arrived? She hadn’t touched him that way only to say good night, surely.
The carriage stopped before their mansion of a town house, and Lyman descended first to pay the coachman before he could get a good look at either of his companions.
“Aren’t you continuing on to your house?” Annabelle asked, confused.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s not far,” he lied.
“Go on inside, Annabelle,” her sister commanded over the clopping of hooves on stone as the coachman drove his team on. “I’ll be up in a moment.”
What would happen in that moment?
Miss Annabelle gave them both a disapproving look, but trudged up to the front door all the same. Whatever bargain her sister had struck with her, Lyman was grateful for it.
When she was gone, Miss Danby turned her attention back to Lyman, winding her hand around his neck with languid amusement. “It seems we’re quite alone, my lord.”
He needed no further invitation. He bent his head to kiss her, desperate with pent-up desire. He would have liked to be gentler, but his body refused to obey him, and he claimed her lips roughly, a groan escaping him.
She took it in stride, opening her mouth to him eagerly. She tasted faintly of the sherry and lemon she’d drunk back at the casino. He explored her with his tongue, his blood pumping faster at her eager response. This woman was no stranger to pleasure. He should have known it would be like this. She snaked a hand down his chest and around his waist, to find the small of his back and pull him tight to her hips. At the evidence of his significant arousal, she chuckled, the sound low and husky.
Good Lord, she was going to drive him mad.
He’d had no idea how badly he’d needed this. How he’d been aching for an affectionate touch. Her hands set his skin alight.
Miss Danby broke off their kiss to trace the line of his jaw with her mouth, feigning surprise as she whispered. “Oh my. What do you plan to do to me, hmm?”
Lyman struggled to rein himself in. Her hot breath against his ear threatened to send him over the edge.
Privacy. He needed to get her alone somewhere.
“Come back to my rooms,” he murmured. He couldn’t even summon an ounce of shame that she might see how poorly he lived. It was a hovel compared to her house, but it had a bed, and no meddling family to discover them in it. That was the important thing.
“I can’t.” There was a note of regret in her tone that gave him hope. “My sister might look the other way for a short time, but she’ll make a fuss if I’m gone for hours.”
In spite of this refusal, she began nibbling on his ear. He was going to lose his mind.
“Take pity on me, Miss Danby.” Lyman was not above begging, at this point.
