Della decided her best course was to feign innocence. “I thought you knew. Didn’t I tell you he was the author of that guidebook for gentlemen?”
“I’ve never read it,” Reva replied with an apologetic look. “Are you very sure you don’t suit? Just think, you could be the next Lady Ashton.”
Except that there’s already a Lady Ashton.The woman might have separated from her husband, but she would always retain her position in life. And if Reva should trouble herself to search through Debrett’s or ask after him, she would learn the truth quickly enough.
“Very sure.” Della managed to force a little smile, as though noneof this troubled her. It really wasn’t her concern. She and Ashton were just having some harmless fun until they went their separate ways. There was nothing wrong with that, as long as they kept things quiet.
“What a pity.” Reva deflated a little. “We might have been married right after one another. Ah, well. I hope your writing goes smoothly.”
Once Reva was gone, Della took a deep breath.
It was only natural for Reva to have such hopes for her. Most ladies her age wished to marry as well as they could, and a viscount would be a fine catch for anyone of her station. More than fine.
But most ladies had neither the money nor the daring to live precisely as they liked, much less a profitable business to fall back on. Dellawasambitious. And right now, her goal was to make the most of her present situation before the opportunity was gone.
She returned to the drawing room with a quick step. A maid had whisked away Miss Chatterjee’s tea and brought in a fresh cup for Lord Ashton in the brief time she’d been away, but there was no sign of her now. Della and her guest were quite alone. She shut the door softly behind her, wondering how long she had before Annabelle realized that she was late to her chaperoning duties. Not more than a few minutes, probably. She would use them well.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she murmured with a warm smile.
Ashton rose to his feet politely at her entrance. “It’s quite all right.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of them quite sure how to behave after the way they’d parted. Della made no move to sit, and the viscount was too well mannered to take his own seat first. He watched her expectantly. His expression was always so intense, but this time Della was finally sure she was the cause of the emotion there.
She relished the feel of his eyes on her body.
Della crossed the room and wrapped her hands around Ashton’sneck without a word. His swift intake of breath betrayed his surprise, but he didn’t resist as Della stood on her tiptoes and tugged his head down to meet her embrace. He kissed her hungrily, as if it had been far longer than a few hours since their last encounter. “Sit on the divan,” she breathed, giving his chest a firm nudge in the direction she wanted him.
Lord Ashton obeyed—for a bossy aristocrat, he seemed willing enough to listen to her instructions when it mattered—and slid his hands lower to grip her waist as he sat down. Della followed quickly after him, hiking her skirts up to straddle his legs and rest her weight upon him.
“What if someone sees us like this?” His eyes were wide with shock at her boldness, their muddy green shade growing brighter in the light of the morning sun streaming through the windows. The shrubbery outside and the lace curtains obscured them from the view of anyone approaching the house, but their actions weren’t without some risk. Della judged the reward to be worth it. As she eased herself down to press against Ashton’s growing arousal, his protest died off in a low groan.
“They won’t.” Della reassured him, rocking her hips slowly as his breath grew quick. “We’ll stop in just a minute. I only wanted to greet you properly while I still had the chance.”
Unless you beg me not to stop.
Ashton’s hand clenched against her lower back, as if he were thinking the same thing.
It was far more comfortable to kiss him at this angle, where their difference in height was reduced. Della ran a hand through Ashton’s hair and down the back of his neck, pausing to anchor herself on the firm base of his shoulder as she pressed herself against him.
“Della.” He gasped her name like a plea. “You’re driving me mad.”
“Good.” She felt merciless. That was exactly what she wanted. After the way he’d left her last night without ever taking his ownpleasure, Della wanted to know that she could break that self-control. That she could make him so desperate to have her he wouldn’t be able to resist. She bit his lower lip—half by accident in her haste to drink her fill of him before they were interrupted, half on purpose.
His hand slid lower to cup her rear and pull her tight against him. “We shouldn’t,” he murmured, even as his own actions betrayed him. “Anyone could walk in.”
As if summoned by this observation, a set of light footsteps sounded overhead, drawing toward them.
Annabelle.
Della leaned over to whisper into Lord Ashton’s ear. “I want you thinking of this all day, until you can come back to me this evening and finish what we’ve started.”
With that promise, she rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirts, selecting a seat several feet away. Ashton swayed forward as she retreated, as if he intended to pull her right back against him, but he slumped back against the divan a moment later, breathing deeply. His eyes bored into her with such heat that it took all her willpower to maintain a distance between them.
He adjusted himself to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal, but nothing could hide his tousled hair and flushed cheeks, a sharp contrast to his normally immaculate appearance. Della had no doubt she looked much the same, if the hammering of her heart was any indication.
Annabelle would guess what they’d been up to, no doubt. But she smoothed her hair into place all the same. It was important to keep up appearances.
***
