His gaze dipped to her lips. “Oh, I am aware of that. Trust me, I am more than aware.”
Her cheeks flushed once more. They finished their cream ices in companionable silence.
Chapter Five
The first notearrived the next morning, just after breakfast. Jo had taken her repast in her chamber, in keeping with her claims of having been ill the previous evening so her brother Julian and sister-in-law Clara would not find her actions suspicious. Miraculously, she had made her way back through the house just after midnight, drunk on claret and Elijah Decker, belly filled with cream ice, and had not been caught.
Jo was still in her dressing gown, taking her tea, reading her correspondence, and trying to distract herself from the nagging regret she had not been able to banish since she had risen that morning. Just after dawn, she had been up with a headache and a churning stomach.
One item crossed off her list, and yet, it had all been—aside from the erotic art on display in Decker’s library—shockingly innocent. It had not progressed as she had fancied a few hours alone with him, at his mercy, might.
For one thing, he had not attempted to kiss her.
For another, he had behaved as quite the gentleman, accompanying her on the carriage ride back to her brother’s townhome, not complaining when she had leaned against his shoulder and promptly fallen asleep as the carriage and his nearness had lulled her into the arms of Queen Mab.
But she had been beset by nothing but questions for all the hours since she had left her bed.
Heavens, had she snored? Should she have thrown herself into his arms? Kissed him? Was there a reason why he had not kissed her? Why the devil had she told him about her crustacean dream?
Her lady’s maid returned then, distracting Jo from her musings. And she brought with her another note aside from the correspondence she had delivered earlier, which she handed over immediately.
“This just came for you, my lady. I am told there will be a reply.”
The moment Jo saw the note, she knew instinctively it was from Decker. But the familiar handwriting confirmed her suspicions. She accepted it with far too much haste.
“Thank you, Burford,” Jo said, attempting to remain calm as she took the note to her writing desk and frantically devoured its contents.
I promised you the return of your list if you would allow me to help you in achieving its completion. You have been true to your word. Therefore, I am playing the gentleman and will return your list to you on one condition.
Cross off each item on your list with me.
D.
Her heart was pounding faster than the hooves of a galloping horse determined to win a race at Ascot.
Her hands shook.
She had to read the note twice, certain she had misread it. Then thrice.
“Shall I wait for your answer then, my lady?” asked Burford, interrupting Jo’s whirling thoughts.
“Yes,” she said too quickly. Too loudly.
How was it possible for one word to sound so thrilled?
She snatched up her pen and paper and wrote out her response.
I fail to see how further blackmail is playing the gentleman. However, you did feed me cream ice. I shall consider your request. Lord Q remains a tempting option, however.
Yours truly,
J.
Jo stared at the words she had written, wondering if she dared send such a taunting reply before ultimately deciding that yes, she did. She handed off her note and waited, aquiver, for the response.
It arrived in under half an hour, stark and direct and thrilling.
To the devil with Lord Q.
