He wiped his eyes. “It’s not something I’d enjoy myself but I’m notthe one marrying him.”
Felicity folded her arms. “Neither am I.”
“Good.”
“What is Wickstone good at eating do you think? His vegetables?”
Tristan grinned and then bit his lip. “That’s an answer I’d rather demonstrate than discuss in the stairwell. Are you busy?”
Heat washed over her body. “No.”
“Then come with me.” He took her hand and started going down the stairs, not up, toward her room.
“Why?”
“I have to deliver this. Would you like to come with me? We can get out of the Den for a bit.”
“I’d like that. I’ll get my cloak.”
“I’ll wait at the rear servants’ entrance.”
Felicity hurried to get her bonnet, cloak, and gloves. She met Tristan at the door, and they climbed inside one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s unmarked carriages.
Felicity could hardly sit still as the carriage began to roll and Tristan sat across from her. They’d done this dozens of times, but this felt different. She was not hiding herself anymore, and he knew her deepest of secrets, her pain and turmoil. She’d never had someone know her so deeply.
And she’d have to let him go. It wasn’t fair to lose a person that she’d come to confide in and need for comfort and security. But a day would come where she might not ever see him again. To keep herself from staring at him, she turned toward the window and watched the buildings pass by. When was the last time she had gone outside, other than on the balcony? She’d gone to the dressmaker a few days ago, but it felt longer than that. That occasion hadn’t truly been outside. She’d gone from building to carriage to building and the entire time she was fraught with anxiety, as if at any moment her father or Chadwick might appear and grab her. Which was nonsense. She knew that.Logically she knew that. But her body, her thoughts, still reacted as if her fears could emerge from the shadows, and she was helpless to fight it.
“Did you do it?”
Felicity blinked back into the present. “Did I do what?”
He smiled slowly, holding her gaze. “The instructions I gave you last night. Did you follow them?”
Radiant warmth spread through her body and Felicity couldn’t hold his gaze. She shook her head at him and tried to fight a smile even though she was cringing with embarrassment.
“I tried. I did. But I don’t think I achieved anything.”
“That isn’t true. You tried. That’s something, Flick.”
Felicity shrugged bashfully and turned her head to look out the window.
“Not to sound like a braggart, butIdid exceptionally well.”
Her attention snapped back to him, gaze dropping to his lap for a fleeting second. Her cheeks burned with scandalized delight.
“I don’t think I asked,” she replied.
“I knew you wouldn’t, but I thought you should know all the same. Thinking about you when I’m alone in bed is routine for me, but laying there and knowing that you were possibly doing the same? Orgasmic. Literally.”
Felicity bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say, or think, but the images popped into her head anyhow, filling in the blanks as much as she could. She’d never seen a male organ—animal or man—in real life. Only in a text. Not even when it was used as a weapon to hurt her. But she had seen Tristan in a state of arousal and had some general idea about its form.
“I’d like to see it.”
He raised both brows. “I beg your pardon?”
Felicity folded her arms. “I’m trying to picture it, and I can’t, because I’ve never seen the particulars of a man other than on a printedpage in one of Dr. Sloan’s books.”
He folded his arms to match her. “Should I demonstrate right here?”
